I, resting my head against the window pan,
Hear the storm outside, the wild winds,
Yet unable to hear it, I, lost inside my inner storm
struggle, to see past the blinding wind.
The inner destruction is more than that on the inside.
Leaving me without bearings.
I can’t find my way.
They see me, but can’t see my bruised soul.
The weather has cleared, storm is gone
Yet the storm in me stays.