Thunderstorm
I hear it rolling outside my window.
Sometimes it kinda scares me.
You can hear it sometimes from miles away.
Following it is a beautiful flash.
Like when you take pictures at a play.
Although sometime scary,
it can be beautiful.
Like a swift ballet taking place instantly.
The pitter-patter or rain accompanys it sometimes.
Like the sky is slowly bleeding away all of its perilous dry summer days.
My mom used to say that the rough booms I heard was God,
making Heaven, and that the flashes I saw,
was God taking pictures.
I've often wondered how something could be
so beautiful and dangerous all at once.
It is a thunderstorm.
Its beautiful and dangerus all at once.
It is a thunderstorm.
Sometimes it kinda scares me.
You can hear it sometimes from miles away.
Following it is a beautiful flash.
Like when you take pictures at a play.
Although sometime scary,
it can be beautiful.
Like a swift ballet taking place instantly.
The pitter-patter or rain accompanys it sometimes.
Like the sky is slowly bleeding away all of its perilous dry summer days.
My mom used to say that the rough booms I heard was God,
making Heaven, and that the flashes I saw,
was God taking pictures.
I've often wondered how something could be
so beautiful and dangerous all at once.
It is a thunderstorm.
Its beautiful and dangerus all at once.
It is a thunderstorm.
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