I am a ******* storm.
Whipping and crashing and dancing and weeping,
Never bottled;
No matter how strong my hands are.
Spindly fingers attached to fiery arms tear at the skin of my chest,
Threatening,
To unleash it all.
The Pandora's box of sad teenage heartbreak and doubt-
A nostalgic stereotype that feels;
Yuck.
I feel this intense need to allow my ego to prove you wrong.
Have it rear its ugly horns,
Only to tell you that I am more than an idea of a girl that you'd maybe like to love one day if you ******* feel like it.
Only to inform you that my anger and preference in books does not want to hear your opinion of how daft and uneducated you think I might be but don't have the integrity to say it to my **** face.
Only to let you know that I hate that I agreed that we were bad timing but actually,
It was just you ******* me over and me saying,
Okay.
Because I love you and can't stand you,
All I said was one mediocre,
Powerless,
Self deprecating,
Okay.
So I could blame this storm on you,
And I want to,
God do I want to.
But I'm the one who let the storm calm and waver,
At someone else's beck and call.
Which also means,
I will be the one to allow the thunder,
Back into my life.