the salt from my eye burns
|
as does the acid of my tongue.
|
|
might a tempest relieve me of sound and sight.
|
might i unearth the hatchet
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and put it to proper use
|
|
my hand is poised, and in fury.
|
|
only thunder gives me rest.
|
|
dare me to breathe
|
when i can't catch my breath.
|
sway my temper's balance.
|
|
only thunder gives me rest.
|
|
-----------------
|
Whether To Cry Or Destory
|
| Shai Hulud |
