Rain

I can see the coming rain.
It has followed me once more.
It takes no notice of my pain,
Nor has it ever cared before.
Could it be the heavens mourn for me?
Can they not see me cry?
No, they watch objectively,
And drown my tears not knowing why.

"Cry, cry!" I hear voices say.
"For the world is cold!
If you do not die today,
Then you will just grow old!"

I can not hear them when it rains.
The rain drowns the voices out.
Still, my horrid ear, it strains,
So the voices soon will shout:
"Cry, cry you wretched fool,
For someday you will die,
Knowing that the world is cruel,
Yet will never have learned why!"