She Is A Hurricane

She is a hurricane,
spiraling winds
wrapped up
in waterfalls
of rain,

and she can’t stop falling,
pouring herself out onto
streets and cars and houses.

She winds up her thoughts
with gale force facts
and spews them at whoever won’t listen
because no one really does.

Her eyes bleed invisible tears
that plummet onto
people’s faces,
their backs,
their feet,

yet she’s the one
on her knees
begging for someone
to speak,
to see,
to listen
to all the thunderous words
swirling around in her storm,

the pain she craves to let out,
the desire consuming her
piece by piece,
drop by drop,

but all she does is watch
as the upper air flow pulls the clouds away,
watch as the rain dries up again

because there’s nothing
she can really do anyway.


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