The Storm

The Storm

She looks out at the blue sky, and still she can smell the rain

She feels the cold surround her, she shivers, reliving the pain

The clouds have been building for days now, their very stench is in the air

She knows she should take cover, at this point she doesn't care

Is that thunder she hears rumbling, or his car pulling into the drive?

She knows now she is in trouble, he expects dinner by five

She braces herself as the storm rushes through the door

She looks around in desperation, then wonders just what for?

A peaceful feeling takes over as she raises the gun to her head

Calmly she pulls the trigger, slowly she slides to the floor....dead

Now there are only blue skies and clouds of fluffy white

No one to ever hurt her, or scream at her and fight

But somewhere down below her, as another night gives way to the dawn

Other women are waking, and their storms are raging on.

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