A Storm?

Being Dillusional sucks

The rain hit the street
like a million pins dropped from space.
As it whispered love songs
it covered my tears.

The wind did not howl nor cry
but rather, it was silent.
Pulling the rain stubbornly aside
as if to reveal my shame.

I did not walk,
nor did I run,
for fear of overpowering
the sound of the boisterous rain.

The side walk was shadowed,
not by the trees,
for there was no sun,
but by the grey sky itself.

It was then that I sat on the curb,
the storm drain next to me raging
bringing me to the absurd conclusion
that I was in a storm.