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.