The Approaching Storm
I stare at the sky from the shore.
These clouds that form, I must endure.
They are there day after day.
All I can see is a constant gray.
I fight and rage against these thoughts,
But the blood I bleed seems not to clot.
This disease is mine to keep,
And it haunts me from wake to sleep.
Copyright © Danny Stinson | Year Posted 2012
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