Stranger's Storm

As the storm grows, with flooding rain,
thundering screams fill the sky.
Magenta seeping slow, by my lover's name,
I suffocate willingly.

It burns, it burns, mother.
Father, sister, friend, stranger.
I plan my escape, meticulously.

The weather rips my clothes, but I crave the pain.
Venturing crows, watchful of prey.
Magenta sinking low, by my lover's name,
I escape, fallen, barely.

I don't know, don't know, don't row.
Stranger, who are you? Why?
The storm grows.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES
My apologies for sending this the third time. But I wish to check if I can finally manage without writing strangely. There has been issues with...writing and spilling ink everywhere. Should you have been affected by blindness, reach out to me. I may offering you blood pudding.



Penned by my hand on the 18th of Phaestian, in the year 917 AF.