The Storm


Foreboding thunder claps from miles away,
Water deluges the streets.
Ominous winds strike the earth,
Lightning bolts intrude.

It grasps her arm with great force,
She screams, "Let go!"
Its grip gains in power,
She knows what's to come.

She looks into the eyes of evil,
And pleads, "You promised."
Her appeal is denied -
She knows what's to come.

Its free arm is raised and lowered with great force,
She longs to be released.
A tear streams down her cheek,
Mirroring the rain that strikes above.

Repeatedly, It strikes.
With each blow she becomes more numb,
With each blow It grows more tired.

It unlooses its grip, and steps back,
Watching with glee as she falls to the floor.
Black and blue, betrayed and used.

She fades within herself,
She knows what is to be said,.

It has before been in this place,
Staring down at the same face,
It knows what is to be said.

It replaces its grimace with a frown.
Kneeling beside her it utters three perfunctory words:
"I am sorry".

With all the strength she has left,
She says "Okay."

The thunderclaps recede,
The clouds' tears disappear.
The ominous winds calm,
The lightning's view is no longer near.

Dark clouds blanket the sky,
Warning the impending storm.


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