Rain. The slow pitter-patter of rain. It runs down my window in rivers of tears. I stare at it, amused. A picture of my life. Slow and tedious. Rain. Beautiful rain. Silent torrents of blood. Clear and indifferent. Unchanged. Can rain have a life? Does it know beginning and end? Yes? No? Maybe? Who knows? As I stare at it, silent as it, I feel it. Calm and tranquility. Restlessness. Contradictions. Unexplainable emotions. I cry. I smile. I'm angered. I'm calm. Rain. Confusing metaphorical rain. Writer's rain. Terror. A common horror setting. Rain. The slow pitter-patter of true rain. My rain. My life. My metaphor. My truth.
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