[Untitled] || s t o r m
It is a cloud. A vast mass of grey that refuses to depart; one that has made its intentions clear. It deposits its gloomy downpour on me, soaking me through and chilling me. But though my teeth chatter away, it is indifferent to my discomfort. I cannot shift it- the sun does not shine here; its golden rays cannot penetrate through the haze. It cannot be restrained with a leash. It mingles with my thoughts, the gloom intertwined with my misery.
I am thankful for the hours it lightens. Those precious hours free from the pandemonium I have become so accustomed to. It is but a soft whisper; still there, though not as bold. This peace is not long-lasting, and the myriad of thoughts soon returns, crashing down, downpour after downpour. Pain. I am a disconsolate prisoner of my mind. I cannot be freed.