when he was three, the rain scared him, kept him awake.
he would climb into bed with his mom and dad,
snuggle close to them as he fell asleep
and forgot to be scared.
the rain was just another one of his monsters.
when he was seven, the rain intrigued him, gave him questions.
he would ask them from the laps of his mom and dad,
snuggle close under the blanket as he learned more
and forgot to be tired.
the rain was just another thing he should know.
when he was twelve, the rain made him happy, comforted him.
he would run to the window and ignore his mom and dad,
snuggle into the cool glass as he watched the rain
and forgot to move.
the rain was just another one of his pastimes.
when he was sixteen, the rain was his best friend.
he would lay in bed and listen to the arguing of his mom and dad,
snuggle into his comforter as he tried to focus on the thunder instead
and forgot to be happy.
the rain was just another distraction.
by the time he was eighteen, the rain was his worst enemy.
he would sit on the tile and listen for his mom and dad,
snuggle into the comfort of his drugs as he took more than he should
and forgot to exist.
the rain was just another voice, cursing his name.
the thunder was almost louder than the voices in his head,
and he wished that he could predict the rain so maybe
it wouldn't hurt so much when it taunted him.
he climbed through his window and sat on the roof,
feeling the rain soak him until it permeated his bones
and cracked his core, letting him fall towards something better.
when he was eighteen and he was frozen just like he wanted to be,
he got a gash in his head whose blood was racing the arrival of the sun.
he got a cheating father and a broken mother,
a life he didn't want and a death he never imagined.
he felt like he could finally be beaten by the rain.
@
