PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Storm


His night is rough and bleak Tears run down his cheeks As the rain pours and slaps the ground His father hits him, yet he doesn’t make a sound For he knows the consequence of yelling It just adds to the pains and swellings He questions “Why? Why me?” “Why won’t daddy let me be?” Thunder roars As his father walks out the door He spends all the night crying In pain as bad as dying No one came to his rescue The night’s storm was not ensued The rain kept coming down.
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

Comments are closed for this poem.