Rain, out of control, pounds
Against the ground, the roof, the wall,
In a furious, childish rage,
Just by being himself it can but fall
And in that moment I empathise
With Rain, he can’t be helped, at all.
He’s raw, honest and helpless;
People hate him for causing discomfort
But we need Rain to sustain, we confess,
Revitalisation that we thought we sought
Rebounds in his self destructive passion
Having with our blind rejection fought.
Moderation’s fingers lack the elasticity
Or strength to reach round Rain’s temperament;
In places none, in others beyond plenty,
And Rain’s tantrum was never meant
To invoke beholder’s pity.
Well if aloof Sun should happen to break out,
Remember, stunted would growth be without Rain.
‘Cause even if at first you like the drought
In the end you’d see it lead to Pain.