[Old and Unreadable] Max's Thought-Provoking Poetry

Storm

The windows pulse as the rain bombards them
The wind howling like a hyena outside
The house reverberates in a sickening hum
In this storm you either live or die

Fresh yet abrasive, the storm looks at you unkindly
While spreading the clouds to each end of above
It is a huge, thundering, black hawk
And you are a little white dove

You sit, cradled in your shaking abode
Safe from the thunderous bickering outside
I'll go out sometime tomorrow, you say
When the sky is free of clouds

When the sky is free of clouds?
When this suffocating storm has moved down the line?
Later, later, it's always later
But good 'ol "Sometime" is not a valid time

Even if it is hidden by the storm
The sun still goes down, paving sorrows
Sorrows that you did not act now
There are only so many tomorrows

If you use the storm as an excuse to not venture
To not continue, to not take your action truly
The storm will swallow you up
And your future will not be of your ruling