|INTRO|
The wind.
I found wind to be the prefect metaphor for this chapter because wind is relentless. It has no care for the trees it brings down or the children it scares. The wind, very often, is like my thoughts. Persistent and loud. They howl at the windows and knock on my doors. These poems are my darkest nights and most persistent fears. Unfortunately, you can't outrun them. All you can do is wait, so get ready for the storm. It's a comin'.
YOU ARE READING
Storms Don't Stop For You
PoesíaPoetry and prose about love, hate, and everything in between.
