When it rains, it pours
At least that’s what they say.
So here I am
Standing in a torrential downpour of my own decisions
Contemplating a worn out turn of phrase
As if it bears any real meaning on the thing I’ve become
This monster of selfish desires
A husk of what compassionate being
Unable to find the empathy once boiling within me
When it rains, it pours
It comes in waves of blood dripping from a needle
Crashes into sweet nothing on the precipice of death
A sickly, sticky trickling sweat both unbearable and unnoticed amidst the throws of fever dream
Gnawing and clawing at skin that is frozen and shrieking in flames
What have I become?
Tears flooding my eyes in silent screaming
Begging for all this to be over
To remember what my body feels like
To remember the gentle touch of a hand that didn’t set my brain alarm
To remember the morning in all its glory
Untainted by that bitter remorse
When it rains, it surely does pour.
At least...that’s what they say.
About the Creator
Rii Pierce
(She/her.)Words have inexplicable power. ONE word has the power to change any situation just as quickly as it takes to form. Avid writer, voracious reader, compelled activist, and anxious creator, I am newly embracing what I have to offer.
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