The rain, it pours, on the roof above my head,
Its anger and callousness beats like a drum.
The long strenous journey the lonely drops tread
Are the old memories in an empty bottle of rum.
The thunder rumbles from a world unknown to me
Yet to the ear, the masses join beneath the storm.
It is beautiful in a way to realize complacency,
To let the rain dissapate the sorrows of your forlorn.
The persistence flucuates with the beat of her heart
Heavier it sounds as she releases a sigh of relief
I close my eyes and realize we all play our part
As the rain finds a hole above, cleaning my grief.
I do not mind as we lay moist and intertwined
I would not mind if the rain filled up this tired rom
For everything that was destroyed would not redefine
The warmth I feel in her arms on a lazy afternoon.