She is a Storm

She is a Storm.

The kind the sky warns you about in silence

just before it splits open.

There’s no mercy in her winds.

She doesn’t whisper- she howls.

A force carved from every time she bit her tongue

until it bled.

She arrives uninvited,

draped in shadows and static,

and when she speaks,

the ground forgets how to hold itself together.

Her rage is not reckless;

It is precise.

A storm does not destroy without purpose.

It strips,

until the truth is all that’s left,

naked and trembling in the wreckage.

She floods what others buried;

Unleashes what was silenced.

And when she cracks the sky in two,

it is not to light the way,

but to reveal what’s been hiding in dark.

The eye of her fury holds no calm;

only the echo of every scream she swallowed

and every secret she wasn’t allowed to say out loud.

She is a storm.

And she will pass…

but nothing will ever look the same

once she does.