Lost Dreams of Rain

I remember the
north.

The first time.

I remember hearing suicide
rates
and how unbelievably
high
they were.

They still are.

Though,
I had my doubts.

Sunshine wasn't
that
good.

Until,
depression replaced its
rays.

Heavier than oceans.

Upon my precious skull.

The rain
kept it
there
for 90 days
straight.

Fucking 90 fucking days.

I got used to
the darkness.

My heart
held it
close,
stitching it
inside
itself
and feeding it
life.

When the sun
finally
broke through,
I wanted it
covered
and hidden away
from my darkness.

It's rays made me
depressed.

I
no longer
longed
for its comfort.

And now,
I dream of rain
washing my soul,
drowning my
illusions.

And now,
I know
I will never
taste its
purity
again.

The stitches are
sorely
coming
undone.