My brain is like a hurricane.

I can tell some discomfort is coming,

But I cannot pinpoint exactly when it will strike.

When the gusty winds of pessimism breeze through my head,

And the sheets of tears roll down my face like a sudden rainstorm,

Or when the thoughts of self-consciousness hit my body like a flash flood,

That is when the hurricane strikes.

No telling why it came,

No idea of when it will leave,

But while it is here,

I have to prepare for when it flees.

The winds have calmed to optimism,

The rain has soaked my face,

The flooding has left me with weakness,

And the hurricane has marked its place.

I lay there,

Trying to recover from the damage,

Attempting to move although it feels impossible.

I get up,

Regroup,

And prepare for what is to come.

Not knowing when the hurricane will strike again.