One thing about rain:
it's not just water nor droplets
but bullets of different emotions.
A match stick that burns your soul
in a deep, vague coldness.
Some found happiness from it;
I once did.
And some did find something
they did not want nor expect.
But a thing about rain:
you will always find something.
It will always give you a thing,
even if you're not aware.
And when you're not aware,
let me tell you,
it is the rain.
A thing about rain,
it's a door.
A door that leads to places you once went.
A door that opens widely for a rent.
It is more than just water;
it's a memory
You can't assume it is the same place
you once longed to be.
We can't say that door is safe
nor the door is free.
Some were trapped,
some managed to escape,
some managed to smile,
and I managed to fear.
I fear that rain would prolong and
would bear a fruit.
But it didn't, it just plucked up
a great root.
How wonderful the rain could be.
How it crashed to ground a resilient tree.
How one could change with a single memory.
And how rain triggers my anxiety.