The very moment it starts raining is the most beautiful thing.
The skies open up and one single drop is brave enough to fall.
It hits the ground, splattering.
The other raindrops come crashing down,
enveloping everything.

I feel so safe
when it’s raining.
The sound calms me,
the drops lightly pitter-patter on my skin
as I sit on the roof outside my room.
I stare off into the distance,
trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do
with thoughts racing through my head.

My covert tears, hidden by the rain streaming down my face,
define all that I am.
Depressed.
Lost.
Worthless.

I feel so safe
when it’s raining.
So safe, in fact, that I let my walls come down,
and my emotions fight me with self-deprecating thoughts.
All hell breaks loose in my mind,
but you wouldn’t even be able to tell
because the rain always washes my pain away.