The slow trickle of raindrops,
slowly etching my bare window.
Hiding the world from view in an instant,
wanting to paint the world anew.
Cleansing they say is what the rain does.
Ridding the world of it's woes.
I could almost believe that is true,
if only my tears would stop their flow.
The sky is as gray as unwashed slate.
The clouds churn in anger and confusion.
Loud is the wind's warning,
falling on deaf and unheeding ears.
Rain, rain, let it fall.
Bathe me and remind me what I lost.
Tell me again that I am alive,
Cleanse this spirit anew..
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