Sometimes I feel
like a snowstorm
cold, violent and waiting to
destroy everything that dared
To stand in my way.
(Those were the days that I knew
that you'd never cared)
Sometimes I feel
like a warm summer evening
comforting, cozy and
just enough light
(those were the days I didn't
need you to hold my hand)
Sometimes I feel
like the monsoon evenings
from when I was a child,
gloomy, dark, wet and
necessary for life but,
hated by all
(those were the days I realized how
much it hurt)
Sometimes,
I think of you
And I think of me
I think of the razors in
the pencil sharpener in my box
And I think that it would be nice
to change what happened
But, I can't
So, I think of something else
-mine