I take inspiration from the rain. It openly displays a kind of attainable perfection. My hands can never describe what I’m holding for a raindrop never last long enough as poets we use the smell of rain to describe so much the scent of summer ending and spring beginning the belief that the smell of rain could wash away and uncomfortable afternoon, but why should the rain smell like anything other than rain? Why are my emotions drawn to make something from nothing to form some kind of understanding, although it was never meant to be understood why does a puddle mean less to me than the thing that created it? Why must I follow such a strict way of dancing around often blunt truth I think it’s because no one can in truth. Relate to the rain as a whole We can’t replicate even attainable perfection because it’s not perfect everything we think we know about the rain is over exaggerated the drops aren’t perfect. They’re messy and broken. The smell describes nothing more than a cry from the heavens to wash away the ***** sidewalks. Rain doesn’t form perfect due on leaves. It evaporates from everyone and thing rain is just pain. The clouds could no longer bear to take. I know now why poets draw from the rain why we paint a path of words that attempt to convey why we mix up painted perfect rain, where we table, the broken, ugly discontent of the rain for we all just want rain to mean more than our pain
Dec 26, 2025
Dec 26, 2025 at 8:21 PM UTC
I take inspiration from the rain. It openly displays a kind of attainable perfection. My hands can never describe what I’m holding for a raindrop never last long enough as poets we use the smell of rain to describe so much the scent of summer ending and spring beginning the belief that the smell of rain could wash away and uncomfortable afternoon, but why should the rain smell like anything other than rain? Why are my emotions drawn to make something from nothing to form some kind of understanding, although it was never meant to be understood why does a puddle mean less to me than the thing that created it? Why must I follow such a strict way of dancing around often blunt truth I think it’s because no one can in truth. Relate to the rain as a whole We can’t replicate even attainable perfection because it’s not perfect everything we think we know about the rain is over exaggerated the drops aren’t perfect. They’re messy and broken. The smell describes nothing more than a cry from the heavens to wash away the ***** sidewalks. Rain doesn’t form perfect due on leaves. It evaporates from everyone and thing rain is just pain. The clouds could no longer bear to take. I know now why poets draw from the rain why we paint a path of words that attempt to convey why we mix up painted perfect rain, where we table, the broken, ugly discontent of the rain for we all just want rain to mean more than our pain