It's a storm inside her head, as she lies awake on her tranquil bed
lightning flickers in her eyes
gathering to form the perfect picture of her demise
The cyclone sojourns in her throat, is it why she chokes when she cries?
She gripped the dagger begging it to cease the storm.
It spoke to her, " and what am I to do?  I am nothing but a steel.
You can do more than I can. I am but a weapon you may wield or may unhand.
I was not made for this, not for cutting throats, as You did not live only to die. Loosen your grip so I may be free. The storm will pass, Please be there when it does. Hold on to better days. You're greater than any storm that goes your way."



•rb