Like tyrants bellowing, roaring, thrashing and pillaging.

Like volatile waves in a storm,
brawling among themselves for no prize.

Like the winds howling as if lost,
as if calling out for someone or something.

They’re all angry.

In the middle of it all, there you stand. And you scream.

You scream till your face turns red, till every muscle in your body tenses up; you go on till there’s not a breath left in you. Then and only then will they hear you.

The tyrants ceased. The waves settled and the winds stopped.
They watch you expectantly; the heat of their anger still burned within them.

You catch your breath and you burn right back at them.