White, Dave. Mountain Creek. October 29, 2024, Dave White Illustrations.

This dark storm has raged in me for so long,
Twisting my thoughts till right feels wrong.
It bends the truth, leaves only lies,
Clouding my judgment, blinding my eyes.

It starts with tightening my chest,
Stealing my breath, denying rest.
I pant, I gasp, for just one air,
But the weight of this storm is too much to bear.

The tornado lands on my fragile ribs,
A crushing force that never gives.
Breathe, breathe, breathe, I plead—
But this storm ignores my desperate need.

It clouds my sight, a shadowed veil,
Reality blurs, my senses fail. S
ee, see, see—can’t I be free?
But the storm tightens its grip on me.

It zaps my body, an icy sting,
My hands tremble, my muscles cling.
Shake, shake, shake, I curl tight,
Hoping to survive another night.

Through all this chaos, my mind’s a war,
A battlefield littered with truths I ignore.
The lies clash loud, their swords unsheathed,
Their battle cries the air I breathe.

I try to fight with truths I know,
The seeds of wisdom I watched grow.
But the enemy pulls, relentless and fierce,
Tearing my strength with every pierce.

My body’s weak, my spirit worn,
Tired of weathering this endless storm.
The lies grow louder, the truths grow dim,
The battle seems impossible to win.

In my bones, the shudder grows,
A trembling force that only shows
How much this storm has taken from me,
How little of myself is free.

At last, my strength begins to break,
No more resistance can I fake.
And in the face of the storm’s derision,
The only answer left is… submission.

Yet somewhere deep, a spark remains,
A tiny ember, defying the chains.
Though the storm may bend and try to smother,
It cannot extinguish what I discover.

I am more than this storm, this pain,
A force that persists in the fiercest rain.
Submission may come, but it’s not the end,
For even the wildest storms must bend.