I am like a storm that never wins, a rain that finds no shelter

I am like a storm that never wins, a rain that finds no shelter, I offer a few drops and sigh, they call it drama and look away, If it rains too much, they flee as if my truth would drown their worth, I remain dry and they complain, why am I cold, why am I silent, As if they ever welcomed the storm when it finally arrived. They love the idea of honesty until it comes raw and unfiltered, Trembling and unmasked, they say to open your heart, But only if it rhymes with theirs, only if it doesn't stain their comfort, So I become a sky full of weather, which no one bothers to read, A weather report they ignore until the thunder is all they hear. I wonder, is it better to rain and be hated, Or to dry up and disappear before I feel suffocated? I am a storm between two worlds, a story without an ending, Where my drops of truth are stars falling in silence, A dance of clouds on the sky of consciousness, a symphony of thoughts and memories. In this flow of existence, I am river and mountain, I am sky and earth, Trying to find balance between being and not being, between speaking and silence, For my storm is nothing but a search for light in the darkness of the world, A song of the heart that resonates even when no one listens.