"Enduring The Downpour"

The tomorrow will make the present a past you, the world is perfect to the point of being cruel. Sleep—the curtains fall, tomorrow feels the same, ends the same. Like I’m jogging through life, passing people I once knew. I trip, fall, and they rush past me, cheering with words so light they float away before I can grasp them. Growing up, everything was brighter, joy wove through sadness like golden thread. Somewhere along the line, the rain clouds gathered, the sun never came, just a jog through endless rain. But the rain kept falling. I took shelter. Now I fear braving the storm once more, fearing the horizon will be my last. Only leads to death, I still haven’t made peace with that. I see no point, no meaning— just the weight of inevitability. Writing it down categorizes the weight, folds it into lines and verses, an umbrella in the rain. Yet, when I stumble upon old words, I feel what I felt, and I wonder— did I change? I hold on because forgetting is more painful than anything. Even when bonds are broken, I cling to moments of joy and pain, memories like lifelines in the storm. The past tethers me to the ever-changing horizons, pulling me forward, even as the rain keeps falling.