The storm is coming I can feel the wind. Quiet voices whispering again and again. A premonition of much more. Are you prepared for it. I can sit here wondering how I’m gonna manage this. I can wonder if I’m going to need another to comfort me. I can deny it’s onslaught or even just try to sit still, hoping in vain it will pass. But I’ve never been that girl. I’m forever being tested, so hesitant to get it tatted “Things will work out somehow” How much of that phrase do I really believe. It seems this life is guaranteed to prove me wrong and I am at constant battle on what to accept.
I’m not a storm fighter, but I can’t just ignore this.
I’m not a storm fighter, but I can’t just ignore this.
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