No reason to shout

The rain here makes such a good atmosphere, I wish I wasn't here. The rain falls harder, louder, faster, making the streets so clear. Should I shout at the sky, should I curl up and cry, I've read one too many poems about people wanting to die. Bored of this lifetime, tired of this world, constantly waiting for something more. Reading words that make me feel heard, written by people who've suffered before. Melodramatic, and for what, there was really no reason to shout. One of these cold, autumn days, you'll have it all figured out.