Let it, pour. Define it.

I need it to rain, for me.
It's how I feel, raw, all the time up underneath.
Wanting, wishing, holding on to that feeling.
Chest constricting, shoulders forward, kneeling.
No prayers, nothing answers the call.
No layers, no, there's nothing there at all.

I need it to rain, for me.
Watch it down pour, live, as I hear your resentment from across the hall.
Foot steps loud, like knives. Imagining the floor, watching my body fall.
Heart wrenched, I'm grasping for air. Face wet, chest cold. I crawl.
Inside myself, where I thought there was safety.
All I find, is the history of reality that made me.

I need it to rain, for me.
Watch it all fall out. get crushed.
Watch myself sit on the couch and spill my guts.
I find my self asking all the time, well just what?
I read books, to stop this motivation.
I can't stop these thoughts of inflation.

I need it to rain for me.
I'm in a better place of understanding.
When does it get better, when will it stop being so demanding.
If I only knew how much of you was left standing.
Then again, maybe I just never understood why you were so commanding.

I need it to rain, for me.
Met with opposition, clasped hands and desperation.
You feed me your insecurities, like a deposition.
When I questions your reality, you can't answer the whole picture, all I'm asking for is the definition.
You've never been able to define what it is you're looking for.
So you blame and resent me for everything your not, already are.

I need it to rain for me.