Jung and The Flower

Struggling Soul

I walked past the storm.
Under the dark clouds.
Against the strong wind.
With the hope to get out.

The thunder roared,
the lightning striked,
the wind blew,
all on me.

Strengthless,
afraid,
weak,
tired.

Couldn't stand
by my own feet.
Yet no one dared
to stand beside.

Crumpled like paper,
thrown like waste,
no single help
was given.

I thought I could face this.
But I finally fell on my knees.
I finally had enough.
I couldn't do it anymore.

Death,
was the thing,
I wished
to take me.

"Please,
just end this,"
I begged.

"Even if it means,
a bullet through my head.

Even if it means,
blade slit my throat.

Even if it means,
I won't be functioning.

Even if it means,
a goodbye to this cruel world."

I surrendered.
I gave up.
Until,
he showed up.

ーthe rain, 17:39 p.m.
the soul.