The Rain....

Sitting outside on my front porch listening to the rain pour down from above, like the angels sobbing from all the pain they suffer. Watching the world turn as if God himself is making the days slow down. As I watch the rain trickle down ooff the roof of my house, I wonder what you are doing at this very moment. Are you thinking of me, like I'm thinking of you now? Are you watching the rain, as I am; at this very moment? I wonder what you think of me. And I know your thoughts of me must be horrid. It must hurt to look at pictures of me, thinking of the sweet gitl you thought you had raised. But truthfully, I know that I am a hateful girl. I wonder how it feels to be dead. Buried underneath the soft dirt, bugs eating away the insides of the still carcass. I wonder what people would think of me once I am gone. A hateful girl, a liar, a whore. I wish I could change the way people view me now. But I know that I cannot. I can just sit underneath this porch and watch the rain pour down from the angels above. Wondering why their crying so much. KNowing that I have hurt everyone around me. And the tears the angels shed is nothing compared to the sobs my fmaily has cried. So, here I am alone wondering about death, while the rain comes down ever so hard. The wind is screaming through the air as if a million people are crying for help just like I am. Praying that all the pain that everyone has been through will quickyl subside, and everything will be normal again. As the rain quietly begins to slow down, my thoughts of death move to the back of my mind again. Only to come again when the rain returns.