#rainmetaphor
Your pain is a well carved from your own
burden — the deeper you dig, the louder
the darkness learns your name.
The hollows echo with every forgotten
ache, in this chamber where young hopes
are laid to rest too early, their graves
watered with the salt of your tears.
It stands before you like a frost-bitten statue,
cold, unblinking, watching you slowly wane.
And still,
you taste the stain of yesterday’s mistakes —
sins that cling to the tongue even after
repentance has washed your hands clean.
You are the last howl in the quiet,
the final cry your heart releases when
the world refuses to hear what breaks you.
Yet where the rain falls —
whether in gentle drops or merciless storms,
let your soul loosen its grip, unfold its fist,
and allow the sky to wash what you’ve carried
too long. Because even pain learns to loosen
its grip when you finally choose to loosen yours.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 3:14 AM UTC
The smell of rain under my breath – clouds
in my chest; a storm of words heavy as perfumed
scent. Sent out to face the quests I half-meant –
awkward friend requests; expecting you to stay
in character, little as far as rewards go,
“let’s just take it slow.”
But how are we so quick to break a heart, to bring
down a character? The occasional monster —
or many; no point checking reviews; the question
of criticism is never an _if_, only _when_.
Hope is for anyone, but not for everyone –
hopeful romantics, hopeless fanatics, hoping
without action; life falls away from us piece by piece,
like rain. The smell of wet soil, the rise of humidity;
our moods changing with whoever’s around—
false humility dressed as weathered wisdom.
The weather of man is so unpredictable.
Oct 22, 2025
Oct 22, 2025 at 6:09 PM UTC