Rain drops...

The rain falls in a pattern close to my life.
Spacious but steady.
I can hear it on my roof.
Drip, drip, drip.
The clouds can only start to paint the picture of how I feel.
But remorse is a lexury that I don't have.
I wish I could change it.
What would I do different.
Why would I do it that way?
Why can't I do that.
The rain reminds me of where I am.
The rain reminds me of my life.
Puddles form in the empty ground.
Puddles paint another picture.
A picture that shows overwhelming pressure.
The rain drops paint another picture.
Falling, at a speed uncontrollable.
Hitting rock bottom.
Like the life that we all live.