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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Crime/Gangster · #1202888
Rain can destroy the best plans...
Rain, rain,
Go away,
Come again some other day.
And if you don’t,
There’ll be hell to pay.

Because rain means water,
And water means mud.
And although water
Covers up blood,
Water means tracks,
In the mud.

Tracks to be followed,
Tracks to be traced,
Tracks to be followed
Back to my place.
That will lead them to ultimately
Finding my face.

Lead them to my name,
In connection to you.
Lead them to my name,
And your body, too.
But you’re dead and its raining,
So what can I do?

You’re dead,
Do I put you now into the ground?
You’re dead,
Do you care about your grave mound?
It doesn’t matter;
In this rain you’ll be found.

And then it won’t matter,
What you did you me.
All that will matter,
Is what they will see:
You dead body,
Smiling up and incriminating me.

Rain, rain,
Go away,
Come again some other day.
And if you don’t,
There’ll be hell to pay.
© Copyright 2007 Falling Down Falling Down (londonbridge at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1202888-Rain