As Heaven’s bless stings my skin,
I fled and parts of me aches within,
Salty tears embrace the bitter rain,
Not even the wind can ease my pain.

Puddles scattered with my every pace,
Replaying the torments right back to my face,
Droplets reflect the past, the timeline ahead,
And finally realizing that I am better off dead.

The clouds look down on me,
They sent these pummelling soldiers – oh so cold!
The clouds look down on me,
So dark and grey upon this worthless soul.

The vile water beneath preyed my feet,
The stairway ride was the last thing I need,
The fall could have carried me to eternal rest,
For I am prepared to leave this distress.

From the curtain of rain comes the harbinger,
My reaper has come – the very last of my torture,
But gentle fingers brushed through the strands,
Touching my cheeks feeling the warmth from the hands.

The storm still rage,
My inner whirlwind rampages,
By the heat which taught me not to fear,
Even if the sky is unclear.

The clouds had look down on me,
Laughing at this sudden false alarm,
The clouds may look down on me,
But I find bliss being wrapped in his arms.

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A/N: Nothing much to do with me, really. Spin-off poem for These Falling Apples. I changed a few verses.