A Thunderstorm is brewing,
the likes I've never seen;
It's headed in my direction,
coming straight towards me.
~
It will be most deafening,
how will I stand the sound;
As my flimsy house of plastic cards,
goes crumbling to the ground.
~
I can not stop its' furry,
and it's much to late to run;
So I'll face the roaring Thunder,
and Clouds that block the Sun.
~
A product of my past,
and the pain I've held inside;
It's building up too quickly,
and I've nowhere to hide.
~
So I'll wait the lightning out,
prepared to face that day;
When I must tell the truth,
hoping I'll know what to say.