A storm starts brewing in your soul’s once peaceful sea;

Welled up tears,

Anger,

Fears,

Collected in one giant hurricane of “Oh, poor me!”

It comes crashing,

Bashing, down upon you;

Maimed,

In pain,

Crying.

The torrents of tears burn the skin,

Asking questions you’ve hidden within;

The Why?’s

The What?’s

How did you let this happen?

Every second ticks loud and fast,

You take look in the past;

Times of tears,

Don’ts and didn’ts.

There’s no room for comforts here.

Like the monster hidden underneath your bed,

Eyes wish not to behold, much rather it be dead;

A writhing,

Screaming,

Child of pain and tormented tears.

Children beware;

Demons and monsters

Crawl and creep.

Picking at your soul while you sleep.

You may survive for a while, but soon enough…

With the storms of roiling, boiling, sadness and confusion,

A girl of joy,

Never tears,

Will find herself

A roiling ball of agony.

By: Julie