Rain In The 20 First Century Cast The Sun Poem by chris schwartz

I would have loved to rest
On the farm.
But, there has never been
A field, nor a fence
Planted,
Without remembering
It's tragic outcome,
Depending on when
The rain came.
The rain always comes.
Sometimes it lasts
For longer than we
Can bear,
But just when we think
We have handled most
Of what we can,
The Sun peeks out
And reminds us of
The new day.
I Hate the sun, sometimes.
Sometimes,
I just want the rain.
The rain,
That pours down so hard,
That it beats my face with
A hard, cold shower,
And sounds me
To Wake up! ! !
The angry Gods,
(Or my mother)
Still pounding at
My windowsill.
I will not listen.
I will never listen.
I am fine
With leaving
This planet with
Just
Who I am.