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.