Sometimes it’s apocalyptic.
I’m there, in the eye of the storm, momentarily,
Stuck between calm and surrounding chaos
Until its wrath is no longer containable,
Until I cannot avoid the shadows creeping in.
It is unleashed with incredible violence,
The air knocked out of my struggling lungs.
Desperately I search for roots to tether me,
To counter the reckless waves that break.
But I cannot fight a storm quite like this:
One that beats against my aching ribcage,
Blinds me with an overwhelming darkness.
Life feels fragile; one wrong move, I’ll break.
So I bury my head as the storm rages on,
Pained as two parts of my mind wage war
And all I can do is silently weep.