The Smell of Thunderstorms
An excerpt of my anxiety.
I love the smell of thunderstorms. Rain pouring from the sky. I sit here, high anxiety, but why?!
Sirens screaming. URGENCY! EMERGENCY! but ironically there isn't any.
An overdose a day, body counts, high statistics off the charts.
Turn on the news and the government shoots.
Propaganda to become a better person, go to college, set some goals, but let's not forget that...
I love the smell of thunderstorms. Rain pouring from the sky. I sit here, high anxiety, but why?!
We allow disease to walk and wander. Surrender morals over ethics. Corrupt encounters. Black lives matter. We're all in this together. Wake up or it will end.
Oblivion.
Insensibility,
Unconsciousness,
Amnesty,
or pardon.
We all want to forget what is really going on here.
I love the smell of thunderstorms. Rain pouring from the sky. I sit here, high anxiety.
Humanity has died.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Sarai Jakubczak and writers in Poets and other communities.
Countless Nights
As I was listening to the warm putrid substance rise in her throat and expel into the slab of porcelain in front of her, I was smirking. I hoped her pain was excruciating. I wanted her to suffer, feel just a fraction of agony she put me through. Countless nights my body ached.
By Sarai Jakubczak5 years ago in Poets
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.