I stand in the middle of the storm,

Thunder roaring, rain pouring.

What’s this burden that we’re forced to play?

The game in which we will lose at anyway.

 

I stand in the middle of the storm,

The rain washes away what’s left of my alleged sanity.

The wind shoves me back, draining any strength that remains within my broken soul.

The clothes that embrace me yield no warmth.

My tears caress my face,

While my existence decays without a trace.

 

I scream in frustration, letting go of any hesitation.

I’m so tired of everyone, and everything.

Fake smiles,

Fake laughs,

Fake friends,

Fake hopes,

Fake.

This world is all one big illusion,

A game in which we are merely pawns, upon a large lath.

I wonder what will be written as my epitaph.

 

 

I stand in the storm, letting go of all of my inhibitions.

The grey clouds conceal my shame, the shame that I am the only one for blame.

The wind strums the leaves, which cling to branches,

They cling to branches, such as I cling to false hopes,

Hopes from people that I borrow,

As the leaves sing the song, of my fractured sorrow.