Inner storm (A poem of Crona's)
Darkness, thunder and lightning you see,
a huge storm is getting closer,
madness, trouble and what's frightening are eating me,
while people judge wrong, calling me a loser.
What is this pain?
Why is it flowing through my vein?
Is the world on the verge of dying,
or is it me, whom down a dark hole is flying*? (*meant as falling)
...That's something I've done for too long,
the truth is I don't know how to deal with it,
people tell me to step up and be strong,
but I keep falling, singing the same melancholic song,
over and over, without having a bit
of light and love, simple to everyone else,
which to me, doesn't make much sense...
...One day I think things are gonna get better,
the next one my opinion already changed with anger.
Please, tell me: is there an end,
to suffering, struggling and keeping things in my head?
I only see hell, not knowing where to stand,
my eyes looking downwards, my arms widely spread,
this only to welcome the dead,
because I have my soul in pieces shred.
Will my black blood draw me mad?