Storm

Something's wrong, we can all tell.
They say they scream they beg they plead.
And I'll open my eyes but they just let out rain.
And they'll open their ears but all they hear is thunder.
And I open my mouth but all I release is wind,
Carrying empty words on my breath
And full clouds before inhale, to fuel my storm.
Please, R, please, just tell us, just tell us.
And I'll breathe in the atmosphere,
from the ground where I've been pushed down.
And I'll open my mouth again.
And the leaves rustle, it whistles past their ears,
Placating them while I catch my breath.
The clouds roll in behind my eyes,
My mind commandeered by dark grey mixed with despair,
and I can no longer see the people in front of me,
But instead I see the people behind me, and their shadows.
The shadows that they once attached to me.
The shadows they sewed to my heels,
Then ripped them, leaving behind a small trace.
I know now that every time that shadow rips,
He gets shorter and shorter,
And because I give so much more of me,
I lose so much more of Her.
And something's wrong, R, we can all tell.
You never talk to me anymore,
You never smile at me in the halls anymore,
We never hang out anymore.
The harshest contradiction:
You're not alright, here's why I care:
You're not the same, and that affects me.
And your storm is narcissism, and ignorance,
And that storm hangs over my head.
And her storm is hesitation and a fear of confrontation.
And that's fine, but one day you'll realize,
We all have to stand up for ourselves.
There won't always be someone there to protect you.
And his storm is his mislead self-impression.
He swears he's an honest guy,
And he swears he never meant this,
And never again, and oh we'll be fine and,
You see, I feel like we just need to talk,
But I feel like we need to just shut up,
At least until you learn how to listen.
And my storm should be like yours,
My storm should be like everyone our age's:
My storm should be drama, and young adult worries.
But I was a young adult when those around me were
Chasing boys in the lunch line, and in the halls before
Going into town with the big groups,
For frapuccinos and gossip.
I was a tween when everyone around me
Was just worrying about fifth grade graduation.
I grew up in Elementary School.
And so it's Something's Wrong,
Something's Wrong,
and in middle school I breathe out my storm,
And one person withstands it,
And then he spreads it,
Changing my storm.
Until his words are the lightning, and I'm different forever.
And Something's Wrong.
Just tell me,
And I'll open my mouth to do just that,
But all that comes out is the storm.
Because revealing what's behind the hurricane,
Means welcoming in new fronts and new weather.
Withstand my winds until they stop.
Maybe then the calm can set in.