To Speak of Rain

Petals traced upon their graves of the lives they once had scattered

We were lost and torn on broken glass from the reflection we had shattered

We sought out their places among their sacred spaces

We searched through footprints for any traces

We grabbed a hold of their truth as we owned it

Refusing to admit even amongst our own fame

That we had in found borrowed and stole it

Taken again from the sea of the damned

Stolen from the Greatest Poets

I had found out all their secrets and I had told all their lies

It was this sentiment given they wore as disguise

It is a fatal mistake that you think yourself wise

They still breath deeper than you even though they have died

You may have presumed when you found them they were waiting it out

You have presumed that you knew everything they were about

But you’re walking in a cemetery of hearts gone cold

You are walking along whispers of the tales of old

Yet to the highest bidder our souls were sold

Ours are but lies, their truths are still told

We claimed forgotten fame as though we thought we owned it

They were but ashes in our hand, left to us by them, the greatest Poets

A misunderstanding, a terrible waste when we assumed we had figured it out

Pretending to know what they were about, assuming again they were waiting it out

How many times have I written these words?

How many more have them read them too?

How many times over did you have to think twice because you assume I am talking to you?

There are truths we have sought and souls we have bought but within our own web we find ourselves caught

We sold ourselves out but they…they did not, because they couldn’t be so easily bought

Though journey’s center within us

We have found our paths have collided

Though we claim a union of one

We are still a house divided

Over a decision never decided

Did we really assume it was ours for the taking and they were only ingredients in the dreams that we’re making

We stand so tall while it is our ground that’s shaking, confused by the vision, that reflection is breaking

And it was strange, odd even, the way we just claimed it

Taking our places within those forgotten spaces

Taking our stand among the damned of forgotten faces

We proved our own souls by lighting a lantern and calling it a flame

Attempting even to be known by name

While the words we all speak are all sounding the same

We all it seems, keep talking about the rain

And do you still call yourself a Poet?

Claiming your title with these words you embrace, drinking them down so bitter is the taste

Because everything you are can still be erased, and your solitude seems to have been misplaced

Every minute you spend is someone’s time you will waste, they’ve forgotten your name, they’ve forgotten your face

But tell me again that you are a Poet

And I’ll tell you your title is stolen

A thief in the night, thinking your hidden from sight

You call me a fool and I think you are right

You claim you won’t sell but I think that you might

Because you’re still speaking of the rain

And my story has not changed

So this is truth that you so proudly claim

Have you broken your heart while you’re pointing out blame?

Even if though you call it by a different name…

Rain is still just rain

You tell me your sorrows and how your broken and bruised

As though you take no part its not something you choose

Everything that you are is everything you will loose

We have all already tired of how your heart went cold

That story now is so very old, and already a million time told

That journey you started took way too long

We all know by heart the words to that song

You may call me a fool but I think that you’re wrong

You allowed all us to follow through the broken glass of the truth that you borrow

We choked on the poison of your perpetual sorrow, and time ran out before we reached tomorrow

Yet you continued moving farther?

You continue moving under water

Drowning yourself to become a martyr

Have you really in fact been saved by Grace

It seems to be you have simply lost your place

Your soul and your legacy already erased

But stand and claim your stolen space

So we may choke on the poison we swallow

As you scream out from a place that is hollow

Don’t ask me for truth in which you can wallow

Ask me for lies and I’ll tell you tomorrow

Remember, I am the Poet.

It is my path that we now follow

Will it matter then at all who is to blame

That they no nothing of our story

They do not know our name

Or that every story we tell we still tell the same

Because we are all still speaking of rain

Our rain it seems has ranked as lowest

They are still the Greatest Poets