Forecasting

I cannot shake this feeling
Like an itch you cannot scratch,
Sitting under darkened skies
Ready to collapse.

I look above to the vast
And watch your grey clouds form,
Distant thunder rolling close,
I'm waiting for the storm.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741