It starts with a single drop,
The clouds turn darker,
And the red tainted showers begin.
Your anger,
Thunderous and loud,
Is painstakingly slow.
She's soaked, chilled to the bone with your words,
they wring in her ears, leaving her brittle.
The downpour won't stop, on both ends now.
Lightening strikes, marking her skin bright red,
But she doesn't mind, not much anyway.
She prays for the grey clouds to turn pink.
To her, the rays which you illuminate with are well worth the storm.
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