The rain soaks through my skin to bone,
Holding me here as I push forth alone;
To forgive of sins I've refused to atone.
But as my feet bare cold against hardened stone
The voices return to me, a ceaseless drone
Of hatred and misgivings too oft overblown,
And I lose myself again, refusing to condone
Every action I've taken, creating a throne

Of self-important misery.

But then I see your eyes afore me,
And I find my place again.