Storm
A lonesome figure stood upon the crashing waves
Extended arms to the darkest skies
Screaming out her fury at the heavens above
For the bitter storms she had survived
Tears streamed from weary eyes so tired of battle
Small shoulders shook in agony
Cursing the very things that made her stronger
As this, she could not see
Why me? She moaned and wailed in a mournful tone
Hot fear still gripping her heart
While forgetting that she was alive and well to cry
The most incredibly, important part
Those bitter storms will come and they will pass
They will never stay too long
Remember when you are screaming out in fury
It is The Storms that make you strong.
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