I sit here,
staring at the ceilings,
2 textures, two homes,
my eyes
filling with ocean waves.

They fall down my face,
a thunderstorm
wailing through the walls.

My lips burn from the salt,
my throat raw,
lightning striking
my vocal cords.

The walls shake
and vibrate
from the
cries of the outside
and within
my head.

I want the sea to calm,
the waves of tears to be small again,
the storm to go away,
rain rain go away,
never come back again.

I sing,
maybe a little crazily—
"It's raining, it's pouring,
the young girl is roaring,
she went to bed,
hit her head,
and wished she wouldn't
wake up in the morning."

But I just say that when I'm sad—
I don't truly mean it.

So here
I sit here, my eyes,
filled with salt and
cries,
my blurry focus on
the lightning
flickering behind my eyelids,
and my iris
hazily looks up at the
ceilings,
while my throat
is lit up on fire
and my head pounds
as the thunder