The Storm

I don't like seeing her.
Her eyes these days are not my own
I'm taking notice.
A nod to being her.
A nod to when she's all alone
And taking notice
Of how little she has grown
All along.
Where's she gone?

Her skin is different now.
It still looks young but feels so old.
Though they don't know this,
Or all the little ways
She's fallen in with dangerous games
Just to know if
The risk was worth the chance to change
All along.
But she's far gone.

And we lost her on a bedsheet
She was howling for a storm.
Cursing, praying for some wind to pick her up.
All along then, she was saying,
She thought wind would be enough
To beat her walls all down
So she could build her up.

And now she sighs and pleads
She came to you down on her knees
Begged for bruising.
For just a little pain
To come from you and not her brain
Smile proving
Such an acquired taste is shame.
And all along,
She was wrong.

And we lost her on a bedsheet
When your rain was wet and warm
Shouting, saying, that some rain might fill her up.
All along then, she was praying, that the rain would be enough,
To break her body down
So she could build her up.

So she could build her up.