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Thunderstorms, once comforting, now a sense of confusion.
I can cry in the rhythm of the rain,
as it hits my windowsill, the harder it poor’s the harder I cry.
Letting go of all my anger, resentment, confusion, and fear.
I lay awake in my pitch black room, only light I get are the flashes of lightning.
The lightning, flashes of hope.
Among them I see you.
They do bring me hope and a sense of security.
Unfortunately, it’s all my imagination.
I know this, because if it were real, you’d be holding me, keeping me warm and safe in your arms, not standing there and disbarring.
Thunder, clashes of hurt.
Each one closer to my heart,
each one hitting deeper and deeper,
each one hitting home,
each one a memory of hurt and frustration.
Thunderstorms came and go but this sense of hurt dose not.
It may fade and strengthen, but never completely leaving me.
As the storm passes, the flashes of hopes fade too.
I try harder to hold them to my heart, to keep them alive, I don’t want to lose them, but will it be for the best?...
With each storm something is left,
Rain helps the grass and plants grow,
As I let my heart grows stronger.
As the storm passes, leaving me in the complete dark, alone.
Not in your arms, were I’d prefer to be.
Alone to think, to be left and lost in webs and tangles of my own thoughts.
To remember what I have lost, only hoping to gain back one day.
Along with this enjoyment of storms.
That hope will always be on my mind, as you will always be in my heart…