Feel the rain on your skin
Let it sink into your pores,
Diffuse into your bloodstream,
Dilute the pain

It trickles down my back
Each drop a bead of cold sweat
But my skin like paper
Will tear when it's wet

My papier-mâché face
Turns up to the sky
I am pulp
I am a mushy mess
I have reached my saturation point
God, don't ask me to confess.