Thunder

Her rage sparks like flint on stone,

Both having the result of a ferocious fire.

 

Her bleak outlook on life,

Reminds most of the coldness of ice.

 

Her world is never truly black and white,

But in all shades of grey.

 

Her sadness is that like the rain,

Teardrops like the water that falls from an Angel's eyes.

 

Her roar scares all the silent, little animals,

Like the thunder in the night.

 

Her agony pierces white,

Like that of the lighting during a storm.

 

Her hair never taimed and held back,

Like that of a hurricaine.

 

Her fears keep her awake at night,

Like those stories meant for children.

 

Nothing more can keep her sane,

Save for her ink, pen and paper.

 

Writing is not her only release,

But the devestating effects of friendship and Love help as well.

 

May you find these words to be true and spoken from the heart,

Of a writer with a passionate soul.

Author's Note

Wide awake at 2 AM.... I guess I have more inspiration early in the day!