Poems from my Demented Mind

Running in Rain

"You will live, Eponine, dear god above, if I could heal your wounds with words of love." -A Little Fall of Rain, Les Miserables

In the middle of the alley road, I sat against my little brother's green push along car, sweating in an old Ravens shirt I would later remove inside. He sits on the other side of the car.

It's quiet. No sound. Even in my ever screaming mind, the world of worries has stopped for the first time all day.

I inhale the air, smelling the freshly cut grass of my neighbors' lawns and the rain about to fall from the sky.

Feeling silently content, I open my mouth and softly sing:

So don't you fret, Monsieur Marius.

I lean against the car and stare at the grey clouds above me through the tinted blue plastic now residing over my head.

I don't feel any pain.

Tears prick at my eyes, but they won't fall, almost making me more tearful that I'm even too anxious to properly cry.

A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now.

My brother walks around the car to me, and I pull him into a hug, almost crying once again.

You're here, that's all I need to know.

He giggles, and I envy his ignorance for the hundredth time in forever.

And you will keep me safe.

He stands up, expecting me to follow. He pulls the car away with a childish mirth.

And you will keep me close.

I don't move, lifting my nose to the sky and taking in a deep breath of the beautiful smell of life that beats around me.

And rain,

Standing, tears still set in my heart, I run back to the house with my brother. I won't feel as upset when I'm done. I will have to thank him for reminding me of a beauty in the darkness felt.

Will make the flowers grow.