Oh how it pours when it rains,
sending down razor sharp bolts of lightening.
Thunder that deafens my ears,
muffles the screams of my pain.
And the water soaks through,
drenching my clothes in cold ice.
Raising the hair on my arms,
freezing the tears that now dew.
And the water soaks through,
the thin membranes of my skin.
Causing the marrow in my bones
to become hard like stone.
And still the water soaks through,
as I sleep in a puddle of sin;
Gnawing at my blackened soul,
and still the water soaks through.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem