The rain; I hate it. It falls down cold and unknowing upon my weary brow. I yearn to feel the sun, fore it is better with its caresses. I do not wish to know the rain for what it feels. I could care less. when it hits my roof and trickles down through cracks and unnatural openings; hitting my head, it is untolerable. Buckets greet these greedy drops and welcomes their death...until millions of drops revive themselves wishing to soon overtake me in an ocean of grief. I hate you. I hate you with a passion. But I hate you more when the temperature drops to be merciless. You return to fall upon me and chill my bones. You coax my inner organs to convulse with temporary disease. The rain; I know it hates me. Why? Because I first hated it.