Out of the noise
comes a strained voice.
A crashing roar.
Gushing forth
a tornado of wails.
Spinning and twisting,
echoing and screaming.
Flattening all in its way.
Scattering the debris
like paper confetti.
Annoyed at the things
that the world wants to say.
Each blade of grass
that gets saturated
by the rains of my pain,
will grow
into a field of hope.
All the buildings
built on lies and untruths,
will crumble under the weight
of hurt on their roofs
and as the red sun dries their bones
I'll weather away their foundation stones.
Every monument of hate,
each temple of vile spilled bile.
Mile upon mile of castles built on lies,
I'll pull apart brick by brick,
I'll wipe away the sick
villainous grins of the wicked.
Hurtful, hate fuelled, no shame.
I hope they feel the weight of the rain
and scream in unison my name.
It wasn't the storm that brought the pain,
or the weather that is to blame.
Each man-made mountain
of distorted words,
I'll pull to the ground.
Every flooded area
will resonate
a vibration all around.
Letting people feel the sound
of what it feels like to be beaten,
hurt and trampled,
then blamed for that crime.
I am the storm.
Ferocious and wild.
I am the storm.
Full of rage,
but I'll keep it aimed
directly at the page.
Let tidal waves of resentment
flow away
into a sea of tranquillity,
Capsizing every boat of greed,
anger,
jealousy,
Leaving only the pedalos of necessity.
I'll leave the world alone
it already has enough
pain of its own.
Thanks for reading
Please take a look at my new collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
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