Do I write to cure my mind of the things unseen,
By any other human being,
To regain strength from the pain?
That solemnly remains,
In my heart relentlessly stopping me,
From pleasures that are gained?
Am I the one that’s standing alone in the rain?
Or am I myself the rain?
Is it me that is untamed,
Causing bad weather that strikes the pulmonary vein?
Though my thoughts I try to contain.
Am I like hurricane Katrina?
Yet not wanting to cause harm to New Orleans.
So can I relate myself to hurricane Jane?
Who quickly passes over the Bahamas,
Not causing too much disaster,
But after Francis what else is there to be seen?
Did I change everything,
Because it looks like everything’s the same.
Even without me there will be someone with my name.
Just not my fingerprints though, they would have never came.
So really is the world the same without me,
Or would it have a different frame?
©