Poison put in a sacred chamber
seeps into its pores.

There is a dark storm on the horizon -
Let's have fun.
The storm will never come.

Swift, numbing winds blow
across the arid plain
with a hushed belligerence.
They are bringing the storm this way.
Familiar foes fill the empty space.
The storm is back.
First, the wind blows me back
And I am numb.
And I am gone.

After the winds, the storm hits.
Days go by.
Then, the storm is gone,
and I can see the sun.
I can see the sun,
but I cannot feel it on my face.
The storm is inside me
where the sun cannot reach.
Forever, I will carry the storm.
I will wait for the next wind to blow
So at least I can feel numb.

This poison.