Black rain falls upon my page
from melancholy springs.
Dead rain drips from tired eyes
as life goes down the drain.
Drops of pain fall silent,
unperceived by sheltered hearts.
The last rain, let it give release
that peace may breach this dark.
Staring at reflection
in a pond of forgotten sins,
Melancholy splashes violently,
revealing Déjà vu again.
Cleansing waters from your throne
have healed me many times before.
Let them rain upon my head
and lift me up once more.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Dead Rain by Bill Cantrell )
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