The smell of rain precedes the storm
that looms out in the west.
The sound of distant thunder
causes racing in my chest.

The temperature begins to drop
as I begin to flee
Seeking shelter from the storm
beneath a lonely tree.

I cower there, although I know
this haven's a mistake.
I know this is a lightning rod
but that's the chance I take.

The clouds, like battlements,
now, tower overhead
Ominous...majestic...and
they fill my heart with dread.

Drops of rain begin to fall
and plop among the leaves
Followed my the icy hail
that toward my shelter weaves.

A branch has fallen near my crouch
and nearly I am crushed.
My choice to wait beneath the tree
now seems a little rushed.

I stumble out into the storm.  
The rain is driving hard.
Lightning strikes the tree I'd left.  
The trunk is black and charred.

How foolish was my little hike
in spite of warnings thus.
Stay at home when storms approach
or next time...take the bus

I finely wear a suit just because
I want to be finely dressed,
Yet no matter how delicate
My skin,
I feel sharpness of the silk,
As it cuts me slowly
Like the insults you bare
From your balcony of power
I've been bruised and broken,
But these bones are shaking
Alongside my veins that bleed
Hope and transparency.

I've been kicked to the curb
more times than a football
Except I don't bounce off,
Because my heart isn't shaped
To survive the forces of evil
That walk amongst these walls,
Or people we call friends.

I still wear the finely made suit
Because I know if I take it off,
My skin will crumble and fall,
sometimes I live my life, In confines of fear
Other people bring when I don't fit
In this tailor made suit,
The only thing holding me together
Is sewmanship that my suit brings,
Or perhaps the mask I hide behind
When I try blend into this room
Full of people wearing suits.