When my black rain is falling I hear whispers of demons and death calling,
Why do my problems seem to bear this burden I feel, sometimes I wish I was dreaming but I no its fo real,
I pray to heaven but sometimes I feel it just isn't enough I no times are hard
But how did it get this rough?
The demon he awaits inside the chamber, I click once nothing, then twice but this time with anger,
When my black rain is falling I think it's to much pain to endure give me a reason to live because I can't think of what for,
So I click again because I'm to the point where I really just don't care I cry out with my black rain falling it just isn't fair,
When my black rain is falling I here death calling should I answer the call click click click I feel numb my body starts to fall,
No longer shall I hear the voices of death begin to call, and no longer shall I feel my black rain continue to fall
This is a poem written from a suicidal
Black man, the rain I'm referring two is his tears, the demons that he think he hears talking to him are the bullets within the chamber