Pour Rain Pour Drown The Impure
Wash it all away

Pour Rain Pour Drown The Impure
Pour rain, pour hard, erase the stain,
Let thunder speak through grief and pain,
Wash every mark that darkness made,
Leave nothing of the past to fade.
The sky is torn, it cannot heal,
It weeps for all we try to seal,
Each drop a truth we could not face,
Each storm a form of quiet grace.
Let rivers rise, let streets be claimed,
For all the broken, all the shamed,
No shelter here for what was done,
No place to hide, no place to run.
The dirt will shift, the lies will break,
The ground will tremble in their wake,
And all the masks we chose to wear,
Will drown beneath the open air.
Pour rain, until the silence screams,
Until it floods our buried dreams,
Until the weight we tried to hide,
Is carried off with rising tide.
The pure is not what we pretend,
It bends, it breaks, it does not mend,
Yet still the storm can carve a way,
Through all we tried to keep at bay.
No mercy falls, no gentle plea,
Just raw and endless clarity,
A cleansing born from brutal force,
A reckoning without remorse.
And when the clouds begin to part,
What stands revealed is every heart,
Laid bare beneath a colder sky,
With nothing left to justify.
The rain will end, it always must,
But what remains will turn to dust,
And in that calm, we face the truth,
Of all we lost, and wasted youth.
Pour rain, pour once, then let it cease,
For only then may come some peace,
A world remade, though scarred and sore,
Still stronger than it was before.

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About the Creator
George’s Girl 2026
I've been writing poetry since the age of 10. With pen in hand, I wander the realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture you ❤️#Marie381UkWrites


Comments (1)
I do love a rhyming poem, especially when tit is about an interesting subject or interpretation.