I’m A Stormwatcher

I’m a stormwatcher.

Forever observing the darkening horizon.

The soles of my feet bleeding from eggshell cuts,

My lungs awaiting for the tornado to steal my breathe,

To dismember my sails,

To tear apart my foundation

One thunder clap at a time.


A distant grumble is heard.

The atmospheric pressure drops below safe.

My heart beats like fire.

Each clap shakes my soul;

Each bolt of lightning shooting into me like a snake,

Forever poisoning my body,

Jolting it into epileptic uncertainty.

Step by step the storm approaches.

I watch the eye darken and flood

And those clouds of self-hate and loathing start to circle,

Gaining momentum.

Spinning faster and faster, and faster and faster



I’m a stormwatcher.

I watch how you try to control yourself.

I watch how you try to control me.

Your fingers reach out and grab me by the throat,

Those nine inch nails of yours pinning me to the wall,

Leaving me hanging there. Crooked.

I’ve become your decorative suicide trophy,

To be the centrepiece of your oppressed, repressed, obsessed party.

My eyes always flies on the wall

Seeing the secrets emerge from beneath the dusty, rancid rug,

Watching, observing as the lion tears apart his prey,

Flinching and wincing as the blood starts to spray.

But I can’t move away.

I’m an ornament to your ego,

Forced to watch with unblinking eyes

How you tear the wallpaper off;

How you paint over my colours.

“Shhh…” you whisper

Gently stroking the paintbrush over me.

“I’ll make you into something the world will want to see.

You’ll be my masterpiece.”


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