I hate the rain.
While I defended him,
I defended myself –
closely guarding what is mine.
I hide my heart in my pride.
But really, I am defenseless.
My pride was torn away years ago.
In the rain.
If not for pride, then
why do I hesitate?
When the thunder claps,
all I can think of is his arms.
Arms that could stop the shivering.
When the lightning strikes,
I want to dive into them.
But even the rain reveals
that my heart is a storm of tears.
If this is not my path,
then my path is dark indeed.
My sword will give the answers.
I pierce his body,
but my heart is what bleeds.
I am never coming back.
There is nothing left
but vengeance.
I pray it cures the shame.
I hate the rain.