The Storm

I know you think I’m lovely.

It’s clear and plain to see.

But just because you desire me,

doesn’t mean you value me.

Do you wonder about the songs I paint

deep inside my mind,

or the feelings that I keep in check

for fear of being too unkind?

Do you worry about how my heart breaks

every single day,

because of the profound empathy that was implanted

when I was made this way?

Do you fear the storm that’s brewing

just behind my eyes?

You can see the wall clouds rolling in,

darkening once crystal skies.

Do you know about the lasting drought

that my wake can leave behind

when apathy from caring far too much

is the only pool you’ll find.

Can you weather having to be alone,

when I need my time and space

to get lost inside my untamed mind;

to simply be in my own place.

For if you can withstand the stinging winds

that blow in occasionally,

despite their battering force,

I’ll know you value me.

You have a choice you’ll have to make

in where you position yourself to my tempest gale.

Either you’ll see beauty in my onset and raging,

or you’ll run like hell.

Most of the time, my darling,

I’m loving, and I am warm.

But know, you’re going to run from or chase me.

Either way, I am the storm.

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