Storms

By Debborah Jensen

The storm has blown over.

All quiet it seems.

Destruction is evident,

with my silent screams.

A path was cut through

like a tornado does.

This was untouched

that is just mush.

Pick up the pieces,

start anew.

Each time with this process,

I need more glue.

Soon it will be more glue

than there is me.

By then it will be to late

don't you see?

Each one that builds after being knocked down

starts to care a lot less for the next go round.

Till in the end you don't bother to build.

Just let it go, all motivations been killed