Weathered

I was the lightning

As fierce as a bullet

My anger ran ravishingly

Across a span of millions

 

You were the cloud

Protector of my soul

The Calm of my anger

Keeping me from self destructing

 

But alas I was wrong

I was never the lightning

But the rain

You needed me

Only to build yourself.

Your Selfish desires.

 

Of course, as a cloud usually does

You released me

Dropped me from your heaven

To your bottom hell,

My previous reality. 

 

As a puddle I lied, 

Feeling used and abandoned

Looking to the gates of white with envy.

Until finally you fell, 

As a fallen angel

Back to your own hell

 

Only to haunt me

Turn your hell,

My reality,

To my hell and your heaven

 

But one day

You will return

To the gates of white

And from there I will fall 

Hard against concrete

As a puddle again

Abandoned.

Alone. 

Used. 

Used. 

Used. 

 

Wishing I was the Lightning 

And you were the cloud

That wanted nothing 

But to be my home 

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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