The phone call ends, and I step out of the phone box. <br />It's dark outside, and the cold, hard rain, <br />beats down on me from above. <br />Like arrows piercing armour, <br />so, the rain pierces my soul. <br />Penetrating, deep, to the bone. <br /> <br />I run for cover, trying to escape, <br />my body under ceaseless attack, <br />a thousand steely swords hack at my limbs, <br />I cannot move now, weighed down by it all. <br /> <br />I break down on the cobbled street beneath my feet, <br />on hands and knees, sobbing, begging, <br />Please God, make this stop! My flesh burns, <br />I feel as though a thousand plagues have decended upon me. <br /> <br />Why? Why did she have to say those three little words? <br />My life is in ruins because of it, <br />all because she said; <br />Sorry, its over...<br /><br />Steve Armstrong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rain-pours-down/
