I fall easily for knowledge,
For interesting facts,
And peculiar information.
Things that most people
Don't know,
Which leads me to not knowing
Things that most people
Do know.

I had a little cousin
Who used to think I made it rain
When I was sad or angry.
And she used to be absolutely livid with me
When it rained.

There were points in time,
Where I was such a mess,
And the rain was so unrelenting,
That some small, childish part of me
Partially believed her.
But maybe that was my
Ability to take guilt from anything.

People used to say
That I have a chip on my shoulder,
That I have rain clouds
trailing behind me.

It used to be,
That if you wanted to find me,
I could be found on the front porch
Of my foster parents home,
Sitting in one of the rocking chairs
That used to out there,
Listening to the rain,
Watching the storms,
Reading T.S. Eliot or Edgar Allen Poe,
Or something.

That was before.

Now hearing the rain makes me flinch
And I can't watch it,
And I can't let myself focus on it,
But if it's the only thing to focus on
That's all I hear and I'm stuck in the past.

Now if you want to find me,
I don't know where to point you to.
I'm relearning myself.
Damage and all.