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The cloud above me is the only thing I see,

The sun just seems like a mere memory,

The rain constantly drizzles down on my head,

I wonder if this'll stop once I'm dead.

I keep my head down and stay out of people's way,

As they tell me to move away from the grass on which they lay,

All I can hear are the loud claps of thunder,

Will this stop once I'm dead, I wonder?

Some days the rain stops, but the grey still looms over,

I try to run from it, or disguise it with a makeover,

But the one thing it will always make me wonder...

Is will this all stop once I'm six feet under....