Petite Poetry

Deep Clouds roil above,

Thunder echoes in the distance,

Lightning flashes just before,

Wind whips unmercifully at the trees,

And I smile.

The storm is a release of the anger that I have felt,

The clouds that roil, are deep within my soul, the very pains inflicted against me.

The thunder is the noise of those who so infuriate me,

The lightning; the flashing of my own eyes, a warning to all those who see, of the wrath that is to come.

The wind is my true release, the cleansing breath through my very soul.

And I smile, for now I am free.