deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Rain Machine

i lay here in the dark,  
listening to the rain machine  
fake thunder posing;
it’s close to the real thing,  
i mean, sure it is, right?  
but close still means  
a cheap copy of authentic  
 
i need a cleansing...  
a real downpour  
unleashing it’s fury,  
stinging my face  
and matching my screams  
as it twists it’s fingers  
in my hair,  
covering up the typhoon  
already in progress here  
 
i can hear it,  
the simulated pattern -  
an electronic sky  
full of droplets,  
hitting the ground  
with tiny tin slaps  
like an audience  
applauding  
my latest failure  
 
but i can’t feel it,  
the smell of renewal  
is missing -  
no cold clammy fingers  
shoved into fleece-lined pockets  
trying to stay warm;  
there’s only the knowing  
that i tricked myself  
on purpose,  
so second best  
is close enough, i guess  
 
i’m reminded that nothing is real,  
no matter what we tell ourselves;  
we are all guilty  
of some awfully tall tales;  
we really will believe anything,  
as long as  
as it keeps all manner of truth  
firmly at bay;  
but, i’m a bigger liar than most,  
forever finding meaning  
in people and events    
that have none,  
not after they realize  
i’m just a really good copy
Written by LunaGreyhawk
Published
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