The Rain..

The rain it drums a cruel
crescendo,

It's like viewing
the mirror of my soul.

It mimics my essence and saddens
my hope,

In a life I can no longer
control.

Upon every surface it beats, it
hammers home,

The horrors of life when you
live it alone.

The rain dives into haunting
requiem,

As the ghosts of my past
are calling.

With each drop that laments upon
the ground,

It sets upon
my spirit a mauling.

The sound of sorrow is
surrounding me,

For all the pain that I did
for-see.

The rain sounds like the ruins of the
past,
I hear only the sound of
torment.
It grumbles, sulks and whispers

Of the life I am left to
lament.

The sound of rain is
deafening,
The shout of life that only
stings