The rain

The rain

fell hard and wet upon little us staring down.

The rain

washed over me pouring into your shadow.

The rain

burnt my skin clinging onto your reglow.

The rain

told me to move or be consumed by sorrow.

The rain

flogs truth with each drop.

The rain

is a liar. Because

the rain

doesn’t know that in the rain you grow

ever more strong, ever more brave.

Because the rain burns your skin

but your heart makes the rain

and fire can’t burn fire.

The rain

is a liar. Because

I am the rain, not you,

and I choose to consume

Sorrow and fire.

The rain is a liar.

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