Whenever I can't cry, the rain will cry for me.

It pours out the emptiness that I keep locked up inside of my soul.
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When I can't release my anger, the rain will get angry for me.

It pounds the ground as if it were a drum.

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Why does the sun find joy out of hiding away from those that need it?

☀ 🌤 ⛅️ 🌥 ☁️ 🌧 ⛈ 🌩 ☀️