The Storm

October 27, 2008
By Rose Bruyere, International Falls, MN

Torture is well known to blast

It seems like so much time has passed

Finally the skies turn back to grey

Recognition is on its way

The storm gets worse as it heads near

All I want is out of here

I'll give you help, now here's the cure

“Don't just run out of full-blown fear”

You're getting closer; soon you'll be out

Do you know what this is all about?

Back to normal; skies look clear

Half of the storm will disappear

Ten million clouds above the trees

Future looks bright for you and me

Besides relaxation, life's a breeze

You won't see me on my knees

Jumping, screaming, back and forth

Now the pole is in the North

You feel so predictable

But in the end,--deductible

The storm, it never really resides

People think that we decide

But all in all, like helpless fools

The storm will treat us like we're tools

I am one, and one’s not all

It's a burden in which we fall

I am me--we're not the same

And in truth, we're not to blame

If this is it, it's a horrible game

Deep in the storm, I will remain

And if you've learned something at all true

Deep in my heart, I congratulate you.

The author's comments:
This poem has a double-meaning. The first meaning is living with Bipolar Disorder, something I have done for a few years now. The second meaning is living with an alcoholic father, which I did for the first eleven years of my life.

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