Twisted Like a Storm

On The Edge of Isolation

Overhead the clouds are a torrential

Accumulation of nightmares and fear

The clouds can't hold back, they let go their tears

Collecting in puddles, the potential

Beginning of tempest winds sequential.

Raining relentless in the most austere

Fashion. Quiet and deadly, ever near

The peak of destruction consequential

Of spending black nights dreadfully alone.

Morbid shapeless shadows creep by corners;

Across the hallway walls, touching the bones

Beneath trembling skin, like a foreigner

In unknown lands, caught up in a cyclone

Landing in a tomb of monsterous mourners.