It was pouring rain.

It was pouring rain.
The rain splashed my face.
I felt it trickle down my back. 
It was pouring rain. 
As we walked out: 
My stomach was in knots. 
My heart so heavy; it was falling out of my chest. 
My head was fuzzy. 
My mind so full, I couldn't bear think another thought. 
But we were out there for a purpose. 
We had a mission. 
The mission was crumpled in my hands: 
The heaviness in my heart,
Written down hurriedly. 
Written as the thoughts came. 
The weight of my hurts
Laid exposed on that paper. 
Crumpled in my hands were my clouded thoughts. 
It was pouring rain. 
She held the lighter out. 
I was very skeptical. 
How was this going to make my thoughts go away? 
This wasn't an endeavour that was going to heal my heart. 
We lit the corner. 
I watched the flames consume the paper. 
I saw the words melt away. 
It was pouring rain. 
We re-lit the paper. 
It was in that moment that something clicked. 
I saw it. 
"It made me ugly."
The words ablaze. 
What power did they have over me? 
None. 
I wasn't ugly.
It was it who made my heart heavy. 
But it didn't make me ugly. 
I stood there. 
It was pouring rain. 
I looked up. 
Stared into the Heavens. 
Looked up at God and heard Him say: 
"It can't make you ugly, 
Nikita you are free." 
I stood in the pouring rain.
The rain splashed my face. 
I felt it trickle down my back. 
But it couldn't hurt me anymore. 
I was free. 
The pouring rain cleansed me. 
Those words burnt. 
& with them the legacy 
It had in that aspect of my life. 
It couldn't make me ugly anymore. 
Those hurts didn't make me ugly. 
They made me strong. 
It was today. 
In the pouring rain. 
That I realized this.