what’s with rain?

what’s with rain?
looking for life is like
looking for a gun
when you don’t have one
you won’t find it
you can’t find
what’s always there with you
it’s not love
it doesn’t turn to shade
like hate
though death is like
aspirin
for those who
grieve too long
and when you’re dead
you won’t find anything
but acceptance
for what it was
you were looking for
all along the tide
a seepage
from the imprisonment
of bones
their agonies
blinding to what
we had
to what we
were asking
who made
me?
what
am I?

 

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