The Storm

June 4, 2011
Sometimes I pray
That the rain will fall
And wash me away with it.
Sometimes I think
That I should have been a storm,
Wild and free.
And then I wonder
What if I just leave?
Walk out
And dissipate into wind thrashing,
Light streaking,
Sound thundering,
Rain pouring?
What if I became the storm?
What's stopping me?

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