Under the rain—I was dying;
Drops touched with burning intent:
But never the music muffled—
Never the humming cared.
I felt my skin tear down;
It’s painful—their touch still calls:
But even if my hands, reached—
They refused to turn.
Been so long—It’s fine
The pain, to call it mine.
Maybe they never noticed—
The rain under the rain.
Under the rain—I was dying;
And yet, in that collapse—
I finally felt alive.
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 5:17 PM UTC
Under the rain—I was dying;
Drops touched with burning intent:
But never the music muffled—
Never the humming cared.
I felt my skin tear down;
It’s painful—their touch still calls:
But even if my hands, reached—
They refused to turn.
Been so long—It’s fine
The pain, to call it mine.
Maybe they never noticed—
The rain under the rain.
Under the rain—I was dying;
And yet, in that collapse—
I finally felt alive.
I got the idea in my hostel shower when I opened the hot water too much. I reached out to turn it off, but for some reason, there was quiet pleasure in it.
But I never thought it would go so deep while writing, it's like crying for no reason
