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.