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She sits in the storm, feeling caged,
letting the thunder pour out her rage,
letting the lightining lash out her fear,
letting the rain cry out her tears.

She sits as a stone without a sigh,
letting the dark clouds fly on by,
letting the wind howl away,
letting the hail batter the clay.

The storm did not come to her,
she came to it, drawn by its lure.
She knows it is deadly,
yet it is comforting her while lonely.

For it is here she does not pretend
that she would not do anything to hasten her end.
That while she lets the storm her feelings release
she would give everything to hurry her demise.

Everywhere else, she pretends she is loved
as docile and contented as any little dove.
But should anybody watch in the storm they'd see
she is rejected and longs to be wanted and to please.

She wishes to be rid of these unfair standards,
these rules and 'laws' made with prejudiced candor.
For she cannot live down, like a sunflower shrink to a daisy
and she knows deep inside that perfection would drive her crazy.

So away she runs to the storm,
abandoning all intent to comform.
There she sits like a statue in a cage,
feeling at her situation purposelessness and rage.

Time and time again she silently cries
with an expressionless face she sobs to the skies,
"Was I meant to be friendless and alone?
Why didn't you give me a heart of stone?

I cannot, will not bear this anymore.
Give me a friend, or I will be done for."
Her heart's pleas seem to bounce off the clouds above
for as far as she knows, she alone He does not love.

Day after day, nobody comes.
Though the outside storm is over, inside one rages on.
As nighttime falls, she'll climb into bed,
turn her back on her Bible, and in defeat hang her head.

The next day as she gets up,
she'll wish once more for a knife or a gun.
Then with half a smile, she'll look at the weather
and dash off to the storm and her tiny patch of heather.

She sits in the storm, and there she will stay
tor a lightining bolt struck her down that day.

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Publication Date: 10-09-2009

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