Storm
She’s a storm.
Her heart is cold,
but her hands are warm.
Her emotions unfold.
Her heart is cold
and her mind is numb.
Her emotions unfold,
reducing everything else to a hum.
Her mind is numb,
everything burnt out–
reduced to a hum
like an existential blackout.
Everything burnt out,
she knows she’s spent.
An existential blackout,
there was nothing left to lament.
She knows she’s spent,
a broken art form.
There was nothing to lament,
so she became a storm.