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1 year ago · · Poetry
A beautiful storm.
The kind where lightning dances across the sky.
The world slows down as storm clouds roll by.
Thunder rumbles out, distorting the air.
Even the heavens seem sad.
Heavy, ominous clouds begin to form,
Yet still, no rain begins to fall.
An occasion like this is rare.
A time when it seems like the world is holding its breath.
Under this type of pressure, nothing can stand tall.
The very trees bow to the power of the storm.
Lightning and thunder chase each other through the night.
They are perfect compliments to the other.
Thunder with its deep resounding booms,
And flashes of lightning illuminating the world with its light.
But still, rain refuses to fall.
Even though I can see it is hard, the clouds hold.
No matter the sense of impending doom,
The hold the clouds have on the rain is firm.
Only a scant few drops fell,
But the world would never be able to tell.
Just enough to relieve some of the weight.
Never enough to clear out the floodgates.
Honestly, I see myself in this storm.
I have my clouds full of rain,
Tears I won't shed no matter the pain.
Stress is my lightning,
Illuminating everything I try to hide.
My problems are the thunder, distorting my life.
I wish my lightning would show the peace I want to find.
Regardless of what happens, I keep fighting.
I only allow a couple of tears to escape.
I just continue to force them back,
I can only wipe my face and get back on track.
Yet the storm within me won't recede.
It is like a greedy monster that has to feed.
But I have a firm hold on him,
And I won't let go no matter how grim.
Say perhaps my hold stops working.
Suppose my will can no longer hold back the flood.
What if it all rushes out until I shed tears of blood?
How do I stop myself from hurting?
I need to stop this cycle before it becomes the norm.
It needs to stop before nowhere feels like home.
Before I am left all alone,
Trapped in a perfect storm.