Firestorm

A searing storm beneath the skin, A constant, burning, buzzing din. Nerves ablaze, a frantic plea, For even fleeting vacancy.

Each breath a spark, a touch a flare, The gentlest breeze feels harsh and bare. The world a blur, a muted hush, As fiery tendrils writhe and crush.

But in the dark, a flicker starts, A gentle strength, a mending heart. Through gritted teeth, a silent vow, To fight the flames, and somehow, somehow…

Find respite in the quiet hour, And bloom again, a fragile flower. For even storms must pass us by, And leave behind a painted sky.