The Why of My Thunder
Here it comes
That unnatural feeling again… Of being warned
Like a cold December storm
Blowing out of control
Biting at my fragile soul
I curse that unnatural feeling
It’s like a house… Without a ceiling
Like a banker… Without greed
Like a tumble weed
In a still world… Taunting the wind to blow again
It’s a dooms day feeling
Of being unblessed
Like playing a game of chess
In a cold steel cage
On a jet black stage
Like singing… In a hurricane
While I’m playing a game
Of everlasting love… In a storm of hate
Once that feeling gets a grip
It’s like I beg to be whipped
It’s like I’m laughing with the devil
At a crying falling angel
That unnatural feeling
Sends me running hell bent
Screaming I’m so content
As the pain digs deep inside
As logic and fear collide
So I hide under the covers
As I curse my mother
For not holding me under… To smother
So I could discover
…The why of my thunder…
Wordsmith Abyss
Poetry Without Rules
© Paul H. Keeler… A Cosmic Cowboy
A Cosmic Cowboy 