The Repentance That Never Comes

The repentance that never comes. A poem by him. I can only enjoy the rain. Rain drowns the silence. I’m afraid of the silence. The silence is when they come. They’re after my actions and inactions. But I think they hide, and they can only move in fear. Hide in the drowned silence. Hide in a crowd formed by their pathetic presences like prey. Hide in the idea of judgment, fate, and justice. The rain doesn’t come, not when I hunt them. And when they hope that I die in a fire.