The Tempest of Anger

By , Carlisle, MA
The tempest of anger.
Swirling like a hurricane
inside of her.
Ready to burst,
rising up,
suffocating,
muffling all sounds,
the tempest of anger.
Overpowering
like a rush of clouds over the sun.
Cannot think,
cannot breathe.
Tension.
Tightness.
Horrible.
The tempest of anger
is sad.
She wants it to go away,
but it doesn’t
ever.
She wants to know why,
why she is so angry!
Why can’t she know,
why must she suffer
from this
tempest of anger?
The light has gone out,
the storm begun, and
darkness invades her soul.
There is nothing left,
no spark of fire,
just rain,
so much rain.
And thunder.
Don’t forget the thunder,
that growls in her mind.
But stays in her mind,
does not come out. No.
Where did the spark of fire go,
did the rain wash it away?
She doesn’t know.
The tempest is there,
overtaking her.
There is no help.
She can’t find anything.
Everything is hopeless.
The tempest of anger is
swirling like a hurricane.





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