Storm

How the hell did i get here? Gazing out towards the angry sea, toes curling over the rotted pier- I can't help but wonder what life was like before the storm.
Before the nightmares took over this poor little soul, before the hurricane ruled the sea.
I lived.
White foam has turned to rude suffocating lies. I lean in closer to the storm, fixing my eyes earths hazy edge, wishing for a break- a glimmer of hope.
Surely there is a sign of life. A ship far in the distant, holding on for dear life- not giving in to the storm's selfish rage. Or a bird, effortlessly gliding across the once blue sky.
Gripping on to the edge, I lean a bit more.

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