My Time Of Rain

Soothing apocalyptic wind traversing
With each whisper it softly delivers
A message it seems, incubated in haste
Yet it penetrates the layers beneath
Reaches out to the shrivelled boy
In debt to his emotive abilities I remain
Awake only in deep seated need for rain
Drops smear the thoughts he voiced
Penned down on a parchment, dirty white
Holding him makes me relieved
The insanity of guilt, the rotten insecurity
Disappearing now, making me free
Oh no!
Fake a smile for the approaching stranger
Stuck in a paradox of need and paranoia
Daily cycle of familiarity, impatient fingers
Time speaks clearly; too soon I dwell
I lose control again, the boy hides well
In my time of needing the rain again.