Blood Rain

  Why can't I move? Why does it feel as though I'm being held in the icy grasp of Death's cold hands? My breath is being crushed from me, darkness enveloping me, fire exploding deep inside me. And I embrace it all. All the pain. A harsh world and a life too horrible to cope with. Is this really how the universe was planned? Is it this way for everyone, or just me? The dark sky above begins raining showers of red blood, falling on me in waves.
  And I can move again. The many falling blood drops beckon, call to me. They entice me out of my shell and into the world, exposed and defenseless. Into this damn universe of neverending suffering. I look up, spread my arms wide, shut my eyes as the blood-rain washes in hot waves over me. Do I think I can escape my misery by drowning myself in it? Can I get to the underworld of Hell faster this way, do I think? No, it would be too good to be true. It was not Death who had cradled my life in his pale and unforgiving hands, promising false hope that my painful days would be cut short. No, merely my imagination wishing for it.
  And as I open my eyes again, I can see what really is. The rain is only rain. It is cold and unfeeling, and numbs all senses of hope and love from the air, like a candle in the wind. The rain is not red, not soothingly warm and steady. It is cold, hard, like millions of tiny bullets falling from the sky... If only they would kill me...