The Pain

A poem

Running through the rain, no pain has gained on my broken heart. They say you get wetter if you fetter and run through the rain than walk. But I desire to get wetter and fetter to imitate the rain from the joy of wanting to be free. Free to fall like droplets of my many selves I tend to pull off the shelves from eras of sadness and happiness and that time that passes for gladness. My divisions from splitting differ yet mirror me from only my appearance and fall into your life at different times that you need me. The rain I became at the times you felt blocked by the sun and needed to reframe yourself. I became a frame, a portrait that hung it's corners in your eyes to balance the pain that gained on your heart yet I'm not the quick fix you thought. So lets fall and drop and flop to the ground that our feet pound when we ran through the rain, and remember that pain that we did not feign when I had my broken heart.