The Secret Storm

Emotions sometimes get the best of even the most gallant victors.

Feathers torn from the gaping napes of wind began to dwindle and resist-in spite of the gravity crushing tsunami.

a poem about breathing in good and exhaling the bad. well, sort of.

forced interactions we all tolerate for the sake of being polite.

Sometimes pulling at the thread to watch it all come undone cane be fun.

A metaphor for choice and knowing right and wrong, as well as not always doing it-for whatever reason.