Someone once asked me who I was

I told them that I was the sunset after a storm;

Calm and collected, but frighteningly so

They didn’t believe me, but the more I thought

The more I realized that what I had said was true

Even if all of my stress

Pools in the base of my thoughts

I empty it through my streams of tears

That fall when I realize that my dreams

Are no longer there

But I am not only the sunset, but the storm as well

For my rage can be as lightning on the victim

But my sorrow can become the rain

Drenching the streets with buckets of regret

And when it’s over, the sunset

Clean and bright

Calm and collected

And ever looking towards the future

“Who are you,” they ask

“A mystery.” I tell them.

-Emma Stratton