When it rains, it pours, put on your weather gear, here comes the storm. It's hitting me, in all directions, pellets of rain, feel like bullets. One crisis, after the next, I'm asking now, why I need to text?
Why is it always, at one time? such quiet air, before the next line. When the storm hits, you're never prepared, too many directions, and some lives at risk.
It always seems, I'm in the storm, I'm there to help, in times forlorn. An earth angel, is what I am, finally tuned, metal forks that twang. Every time, and every Tyne, I am in the middle, of every rhyme.
It gets confusing, in the storm, so many thoughts, are bouncing around. Inside my head, the storm and the sea, just too much, electricity. I am so connected, to those around, I sense information and I sense the sound.
I try to slow down, my racing mind, but there's so many thoughts, I can't unwind. When the storm hits, I just hold on tight, wait for the next wind gust, and store my fright.
I stand strong, and I stand tall, like a mannequin, at the mall. Frozen in a window, with a new wardrobe, wondering what event, will make me fall.
No comments:
Post a Comment