Ashen, bruised clouds drift in the dark, night sky like the bruises life has given me.
Thunder cries out for help.
Wet, damp air surrounds me.
The storm is coming.


Lightning flashes in the sky like a streak of pain.
Wind screeches to escape its slavery.
Shivers are sent up my back.
The storm is here.


Darkening clouds send a cold, harsh blanket over my heart.
Tree branches pull away wanting freedom.
Whistling, the breeze hums a sad song trying to ease the pain.
The storm is getting worse.


Peace is hopeless.
Rain is a rhythm trying to distract me from my thoughts.
Moaning, the storm sends a dagger to my soul.
The storm is at its worst.


Instead of the clouds crying their last tears to the ground, the tears come down harder.
The storm will not give up hope of ruining my peace.
Pains will not fade away, and are taking over my body in complete darkness.
While wishing the storm would end, it is only the beginning.


Why can’t there be peace?
Am I the only one who feels this way?
In the world am I alone?
Do my thoughts matter?
Should I give up?
Is there hope?