It was the never ending fear,

Or is it the fear that makes the cycle?

For the heart to crumble into pieces

I heard the roars of thunders,

The clamors of pride and  bigotry,

Clashing each other with anger and ambition

It was the loudness of the thunder,

Or is the noise from criticisms that echoes?

That makes the ears go deaf from the cries of agony

I saw the pain in their eyes,

The dying hope to survive,

Flickering in the midst of the darkness

It was the choice I need to make,

Or is the way I chose to run away?

For my soul to escape the storm,

To set myself free from fright and the dark.


(n.) The amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s