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.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
