Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2012
Come rain,
Come storm,
Unleash my wrath upon the ground.
Come thunder,
Come wind,
Strike the trees down pound for pound.

A silent agony which holds a mask,
Too much to bottle in a thousand flasks.
Come lightning,
Come storm,
And throw fury upon those who hurt me.
Written May 14, 2003
Revised May 15, 2003
Gary W Weasel Jr
Written by
Gary W Weasel Jr
344
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems