The rain falls the wrong way

The rain falls the wrong way.

It drips up my face, past my eyes,

as my body melts like clay.

“Please, do not dismay!”

A kind voice tells me lies,

but the rain falls the wrong way.

I’m trapped here, as I lay

listening to the buzz of flies,

as my body melts like clay.

I’ll dose my frame in floral body spray.

a motion my mind needs to stabilise

but the rain falls the wrong way.

This feels like a march towards doomsday

hands tick anticlockwise,

as my body melts like clay.

Though my suffering is easy to downplay

I’ll go about my life trying to legitimise

why the rain falls the wrong way—

While my body melts like clay.