By Maddie KortI shield myself from the rapid rain that you toss upon me.
The rain used to gently crash, Now it harshly pelts against me. My skin burns. It burns in the rain that I feel. Living inside this skin I once felt home in. This now familiar place has grown cold while the flames arise. How can this be possible? I screech in pain as marks are carefully drawn across my soul. Slowly. Painfully. I die. I die slowly, but that’s what you wanted. Isn’t it? So your rain will pelt me no longer. I will open up my clear umbrella. And although it may not shield me from each and every drop. It will remove some of the pain. Or so I had hoped. I can see, I can see through my clear umbrella. Although the rain may not be getting to me, I can see it all. I watch below and you drum yourselves against me. I watch your words, With accuracy to perfection, Hit my clear umbrella. And it hurts. Why are you inflicting pain upon my tortured soul? What did I do? What do I do? What happens now? I cannot get another umbrella, I am left with my clear one, But my trusty shield is diminishing, Slowly. So I brave on past my troubles and sorrows. I no longer care if my umbrella is clear. It just allows me to see how strong I am, What could be getting to me, But isn’t. I walk down this never-ending road, Smiling. I am alive.
1 Comment
4/30/2019 11:59:56 am
I love you Maddie, I'm very proud of you. It's a very touching poem.
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AuthorThe writers of Ray-Pec Archives
November 2019
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