The Storm
The storm of storms does truly rage,
Growing ever so fierce and dark.
The fury of a force deranged.
The old wise oak, its limbs and bark.
Fire streaks across the sky.
A mournful song the wind it sings.
The rain it seeks to pierce the mind.
The raven with a broken wing.
The earth does tremble as if by chance.
More viciously the storm does grow.
Take the hand of death for dance.
The world above, the world below.
The promises and shattered dreams,
Before the wind burned eyes do flash.
Echoing desolate childhood screams.
Shadows tall and dark now dash.
Tormenting terror within the life.
Death is sought; Cannot be found.
Damnation at the hand of strife.
Growing ever so fierce and dark.
The fury of a force deranged.
The old wise oak, its limbs and bark.
Fire streaks across the sky.
A mournful song the wind it sings.
The rain it seeks to pierce the mind.
The raven with a broken wing.
The earth does tremble as if by chance.
More viciously the storm does grow.
Take the hand of death for dance.
The world above, the world below.
The promises and shattered dreams,
Before the wind burned eyes do flash.
Echoing desolate childhood screams.
Shadows tall and dark now dash.
Tormenting terror within the life.
Death is sought; Cannot be found.
Damnation at the hand of strife.
Penalties for breaking ground...
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