You cannot hide the truth from me.

I see the nature of your lies:
The walls you've built high to hide yourself.

Thunder echoes your footsteps,
And the air grows metallic around you.
The taste of lightning is heavy.

You walk among the people:
They do not fear you -
You who holds that broiling energy inside.
It’s building up

They don’t see,
Those who flicker in and out of your life,
The flashes of truth that reveal your secret,
but even the ones that stay rooted by your side -
couldn’t hope to get caught up in the turmoil.

There's a storm inside you,
Hidden behind grey eyes and a reposeful smile,
They see your careful poise and call you golden child
But tempestuous winds threaten to rupture your calm,
And thunder that beats beneath your skin -
Crescendos into an almighty roar.

You are not a golden child.
How can you be?
When lightning flows through your veins
And laces your words with burning vitality.
You are a child of the sky -
Born from the chaos of those storms past,
Left, grounded to pervade the Earth with your pseudo stillness.

You thought I would not know?
With your heaving winds and torrential downpours.
The staccato beats of the rain are loud despite your quiet facade,
heard even behind the lies you’ve built to hide your nature.
You can not hope to hide the storm behind those walls:
It’s unrelenting strength has weathered them down.
It will not take long for them to fall.