Rain and Snake
I crawl through darkness —
small, scared,
biting at shadows
to keep my life,
to keep my fear away.
I hold my breath,
keep still,
hiding trembling beneath the strike,
trying not to break,
trying not to pour my heart out.
Everyone sees the fight —
the flash of scales,
the flicker of anger —
but no one sees the fear
that claws beneath the surface,
the quiet battle I wage alone.
I am the rain —
falling slow,
holding back the storm inside,
stubbornly holding it in,
though the weight grows heavy.
Sometimes I feel it —
the sky breaking open,
the flood ready to spill free,
but I clutch harder,
trying not to drown in my own tears.
I see that in him —
eyes full of pain,
holding back the storm,
terrified,
yet still trying
to keep the enemy at bay
with silence and stillness.
Maybe I am the same —
holding on too tight,
hiding the cracks,
knowing the end may come soon,
but refusing to let go.
Maybe we are all snakes and rain —
also here to survive the storm —
fragile and fierce,
wounded and wary,
trying to live without breaking.
Copyright © Becoming trude from the ruins | Year Posted 2025
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