I love the rain.
Adore it.
Admire it.
It's cold.
Freezing.
Piercing my skin with its pinpricks of emotional distress.
But sometimes it's warm.
Accepting.
Wrapping me in its blanket of trust.
It's harsh.
Destructive.
Tearing down the walls I try so desperately to keep up.
But sometimes it's gentle.
It's soft.
Kind.
I can sit in it, and feel embraced.
I can cry, and no one will see the tears.
Because when I'm outside.
With just me, and the rain.
It's like I'm not crying alone.
YOU ARE READING
Suicide Poems From A Broken Soul
PoetryNot for the weak of heart. Even the brightest smiles have the darkest feelings behind them. We all have a story. Happy, sad, angry, paranoid. We all do. Our smiles can be the greatest boundaries between ourselves and everyone else. Our smiles don't...
