Tranquil before the storm
I gaze at the sky
The clouds return my stare
They wish for me to die

The tempest wind picks up speed
The rain falls like stones
Unimpressed I stand
The storm begins to grow

My clothes are tattered
My face is bruised
I drip blood from my head
But I still stand, amused

I cock my head
I cry out loud
'Is that all you have?'
I may be battered, but I still stand proud

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Glacian, in the year 413 AF.