As the streetlights flicker,
my face is wet with tears.
As the storm grows thicker,
I try to hide from my fears.

It’s not working.
Thunder isn’t thunder anymore.
It sounds like shouting.
People screaming themselves sore.

I’ll try to hide.
Cower in my bed.
But it sounds like a crashing tide,
and it won’t ******* END.

Stop, I whimpered.
Please, no, I cry.
But I can’t speak louder than a whisper,
no matter how hard I try.