The Arrow

It strikes like a thunderbolt.
It falls like an anvil,
With the impact of a blow from the Hammer of the Gods.
It finds you - yes, it finds you, you don't find it -
At any time -
Lying in bed, driving, reading a book.
You're going through the motions of your day, living your life,
Your life -
That carefully-constructed, precariously-balanced, horrific, beautiful, unique, ordinary arrangement;
Your life
Not anyone else's.

You stand alone, in the rain.
Yes it's cold. Yes the wind is bitter. But you don't mind, do you?
You have your coat, and your umbrella.
Nothing touches you -
But for this.

A raindrop, one of a thousand million
plummets down, and happens to land on you.
Except, of course, this is no mere raindrop.
It is the shaft of Apollo -
Freezing and burning.
A silent, shrieking, hateful, glorious thing.
Its shaft straight and true, its barbs cruel, but strangely comforting.
Of course, your umbrella stands no chance.
It is punctured, as easily as a stone splits the lake.
Your coat provides similar resistance -
Burned up with almost comical ease.
The Arrow pierces your heart, and burrows through your mind.
Your life, once so beautiful,
Is now seen, perhaps for the first time.
Nothing you knew is true. Nothing is sacred.
Nothing withstands its harsh, brilliant, all-revealing light.
You are sure of nothing, and nothing has meaning.
Hope is all that is lost, truth is all that is gained.
Defined. Ambiguous. Blindness. Sight.

The dream breaks.
What you see, or thought you saw, shatters.
The world melts away,
There is nothing, but for the freezing sear of the Arrow.
It flows through everything, invading and encompassing.
You look down to grasp the shaft, to pull it out -
But it's gone. Only the raindrop remains.
It runs. Drips. Falls.
Now one of a million million others, just like it.
The air fills your lungs, and blood rushes through your brain.

Where is the Arrow?
When is the Arrow?
How is the Arrow?
Is the Arrow?
It doesn't matter.
You can't unsee.

The world unmelts, everything is clear.
The same -
But not the same.
You can't unsee.

You can't unsee.

Hi, I'm the half-crazy Demoness, and here's a little thought of mine!

I am quite obsessed with commenting on structures and I want it to be orderly, for there to be a pattern and all of that so usually I would've told you to keep to the same sized stanzas all the way, and not to differ the length of your lines so much cause it disrupts the flow. Your flow isn't so great, and the lines are probably the reason but I still feel like this choppy written stanzas are the way you wanted to deliver this poem and so I won't ask you to change it.
However; Repetition... you go back to saying the same things in different ways and the exact same way and in... ways. It gets a bit dull after awhile and I'd rather you brought something new to the piece! Soo. ehm, overall. I like this poem because it's different, you use many adjectives but still doesn't make the poem that vivid - you could work on that.. eh, so. I'll give you 3/5 splendid spiders to go!

Good Luck & Keep Writing

// Demoness

This is a really long poem which can work, but you've put in a lot of menial lines. There isn't really any specific point to having them there, the only thing they contribute to is the length; they don't really offer any emotion.
For example:

Karzkin wrote:It finds you - yes, it finds you, you don't find it -

This line is just repetetive, I'd remove the second half of the sentence.
Other than that this was pretty well written.