Rain drops falling from the endless expanse of the sky. Pouring over me and soaking into my soul. Draining my life and throwing my personality away and filling it's cavity with false beliefs. The liberation of what was could never come, for it was sunny. The sky was clear, I could see the stars, but the rain came down and wouldn't stop, no matter how many times I told it, it would not cease to weaken my spirit and hope and self confidence, it kept pouring, weighing down on my shoulders, telling me that I was nothing. The grass and the trees tried to tell me 'not to listen'. But if I didn't listen, would the world be silent. I tried showing everyone who I was, but the world kept raining down on me, washing it all away, erasing it all gone. The rain laughed and snickered, it kicked and punched me where it hurt most when I was down for the count, my soul. I tried using umbrellas to mask myself, shut myself away from the world. But umbrellas are like bandaids, and the rain, a gunshot. The bandaid stops the bleeding, but the bullet and pain stays with you. But when I was down, I would not give up, I would not be the one to to say "Enough, I can't take any more", because I know that's wrong, I should be saying"Enough is enough, the rain doesn't hurt me, it doesn't burn me! It doesn't make my life run away like ink and wet paper. All the rain does is wash over me and leave scars bigger than the courage to take the hit! "You left despair where happiness and joy thrived. Leaving only fear and anxiety. I felt like I was a mistake, in a place where people could be whatever they wished, where what was weird, wasn't. I jumped into the pool of friendship, and suddenly the rain came and left me battered and beat, while everyone else took it. You came and flooded what I and many others called home, with your filthy comments about us. You turned bullying, something we all wish we could forget, and used it like a telephone pole sized javelin, plunging it deep into our hearts and laughing as we bled. I sat alone for two years wasting life looking at the damage you do to people, when a safe haven from you was only the click of a mouse button and a quick read of a website away. It doesn't matter whether or not you got to the bottom of the pool or only halfway. It doesn't matter if you stayed or left. Their harshness will always be the same. The rain is like a skilled craftsmen, mending words and insults into swords and daggers piercing through our skin and slicing through our manipulative souls. When the sky is pouring down, ask yourself, "Will I go back inside and have the rain bat me down while I cower in fear?" Or "Will I wear a raincoat and ignore the rain? After all...
The Rain Just Washes Off...
-Nathaniel Schultz
3/26/16
YOU ARE READING
The Rain Just Washes Off.
PoetryJust read it and you'll understand. Thanks for reading and please respond. I was inspired to write this after watching Shane Koyczan's "Trolls". It was such a good poem with a very good message that it encouraged me to try my hands at poetry myself...
