Crouched by the car, I curse at the sky,
Soaked to the bone while people turn a blind eye.

I blink.

I see myself with no mirror.
Yet it couldn't be clearer.

I blink.

This she,
These we.
They all look like me.

I blink.

All wearing the same high-tops with a wrinkled T.
The same me.

I blink.

They have died since.
Oxygen deprived arteries left behind like blueprints.

I blink.

They now resemble twisted mannequins,
Eyes lifted eternally to heaven, atoning for their sins.
Expressions all poising questions.

I blink.

I see myself, miles down my current route in a deadly collision.
Body at an unnatural angle--no seatbelt, bad decision.

I blink.

Myself at a party, sippin' on some whiskey.
A quick plop in my drink ensures I can't get away quickly.

I blink.

The high tops I wear are worn, much like myself from abuse.
Empty apologies don't make up for the blood on my shoes.
Just another victims name on the evening news.

I blink.

I was the person who held signs saying "free hugs."
Now an addict, I'm throwing up on someone else's scrubs.

I blink.

Is this my future?
Dead, abused, a user?

I blink.

A man appears, an umbrella in hand.
"Would you like some help?" He asks, helping me stand.
Where he came from I can't understand...

I blink.

"They call me Heavenly Father.
And I take care of my own--Especially my own daughter."

I blink.

"I've seen too much--What do I do?
I'll always die with a sense of déjavu."

A smile.

"I'll always be here.
Perfect love casts out all fear."

He's gone.

I realize I don't have to die from abuse or a needle in my vein.
I don't need to choose pain.
A laugh bubbles out of me as I realize, I just met God in the rain.