Storm
Location
I’m shredding to pieces in a hurricane
Fraying threadbare at my edges like the sail on a sea-worn ship
I yearn to let go, but I am tied too tightly to my old mast
And now the storm subsides
Winds, though icy and cutting may they be,
Are gentler than just moments ago
This inconsistent tempest makes me feel ill
And worn far too thin for my own good
Brittle and soon to break
I can feel that fateful snap
Coming from a long way off, much too close