every nook and cranny inside the mind of a morose weed

V.

I'm still waiting for the day where the storms inside my head
Calms down

where the hurricanes start to gently blow into a breeze

Or the thunders scream weaker

Or the hails turn to graupels

and rains to drizzle

To slow down the overflowing flood

That has chosen not to leak out of my drought eyes

Until then, I'm still waiting...