It is not the memories to be accounted for,
but rather it is the teachings I wish I listened to.
This is something I do anything but adore,
for the regret washing over me turns my skin blue.
The dull, patterned curtain sticks to my brain:
a symbolic gesture of how I am overcoming it.
As the drops fall and form puddles of rain,
I step out of my brain and allow myself to sit.
Chances like this don’t come once in a lifetime;
I am not my only opportunity.
I know eventually I’ll be fine,
for this is only for eternity.
But it is time I know when I’ll be okay,
for this is not only the rain.