You. You will save me. Did you know I am dead?
Did you know I am dying?
You will say that to me and when I protest you will argue that I have done it to myself. My sneaky sneaky rainsinging insinuating into every corner wrinkle skin layer you have, itching. This is true but this is what I do best. You cannot ignore the rain if you try. You cannot give up if you try. You can't stop hoping I will help you.
Is it my fault that you will rely on me. Have I brought this on myself, is the question. Well Yes I have. Well No I haven't. I cannot decide. Pitterpatterpitterpatterpitterpatterpit. There is myself as I am and there is you as you are and in the end it is you who gets to choose. (Not me).
If you want to be healed I will heal you. If you want a
deluge I will drown you. Splish Splash and I will do this for you. You choose. If you want to be saved I can be your salvation. If you want an excuse I'll excuse you. I can do beautiful, if that's what you need - delicate tinkling, even. If you want me to fall I will fall for you, I will make you fall or we can all fall together. You choose. (Not me).
You know I will do it. You know I am not here just for the plants. I say it and I mean it.
Well here are the two of us - the Rain and the Child. I am safe and you are thirsting.