it’s about to rain, and
I don’t know how to feel about that.

I used to like those signs of an oncoming afternoon shower:

the sun shines a little brighter, at first.

I suppose it knows it is being upstaged,
so it kicks out a few extra rays
underneath the pressure
only to be overshadowed by clouds
as they inch their way center-stage.

I can smell the rain.

I know I’m not the only one, but
I like to pretend, sometimes, that I am.

And I also know I’m not the only one
stuck with this all-too-cliche’ feeling —
this aching, gnawing sensation
that reminds me of what I already know:

             that I, too, am fading out.

And I guess, I, like the sun
just before an afternoon rain,
know that I'll soon be upstaged, too.

So, here I am -
kicking out a few of my own rays
just before I buckle underneath the pressure
        of all these ******* clouds.