Was that how?

A rainy day held me captive in memories. Each droplet that fell turned into blood, Revealing the wounds of my existence. Nature joined in, not with strength, but with pity in its silence. As the hands ticked, the moments slipped. Was that how it was meant to be? With every drop, a thread was born, Slicing through my fragile realm. As my breaths grew shallow, All I could do was sway away, The lending hands letting me go. Was that how it was meant to end?