The storm is here.
The lighting and thunder scare me.
Yet I cannot run from it.
There is something about it that draws me.
The wind is blowing everything from around.
Things that have given me joy are no longer there.
As they pass me by, I do not reach out to help.
I cannot even say their names.
Once the winds stop, so does my yearning for them.
The rain is coming harder then I have ever heard before.
I am not scared; the hard sounds calm me.
As other run and hid, I just sit and listen as it drowns out their screams.
Once it stops, I can no longer hear, and I do not care to look for them.
The storm has come and gone, and now I am at peace.