Thunderstorms mimic the sound of my boiling blood.
How did this storm even start?
I see the lightning's blinding flashes of light
They come and they go - like people -
And for a brief moment everything lights up:
The city's skyline, the moon's reflexion on the river.
I inhale and exhale all these little pictures,
Trying to capture them exactly as they are.
(a keepsake, a memoir
from a split second when peace prevailed
And I wasn't getting ready for battle...
As I am now. Ready for battle)
No tears will dare to flood my eyes.
Instead I have a rumble in my chest:
Pain turned into fuel, anger turned into strength.
A thumping heart drumming like thunder.
A crushing willpower to stomp my way.
I am a moth
And our future is the flame.
