The gale is screaming
Pounding it’s transparent fists against all that it touches
Tearing shingles from roofs
And trees from their roots
Such a perilous sound
🌬
It spares naught from its fury
Not a soul that is safe from its unbiased wrath, no escaping its invisible clutches
Growing louder than thunder
Tearing all things asunder
Ripping innocent plants from the ground
🌬
All things must suffer
Through its icy, merciless gusts that rend flesh from bone without grace
Breaking glass with its force
Ending life, no remorse
An indifference to all that exists
🌬
It gnashes its unseen teeth
Biting like icicles, cold and sharp, penetrating deeper, deeper
Crushing metal and stone
A cutting chill to the bone
The sting of it blistering skin
🌬
Howling like a wolf at the moon
Roaring like the sea during a ship wrecking storm, unrelenting
Battering the walls of my room
Threatening imminent doom
A harbinger of death
🌬
The gale is screaming
Cracking imperceptible whips against all solid matter as it passes
Crashing through ominous skies
I hear the deafening sighs
Of winter’s cold breath
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Fighting the tides
My left leg eagerly bounces up and down. My heart races, and the sweats come in. I'm not waiting; I'm ready and loaded. Every morning, I wake up in the same state. Every day is taken with the same level of eagerness, mixed with a bit of anxiety, a dash of authoritarianism and a colossal ton of impatience.
By Aathavi Thanges5 days ago in Psyche
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