Birds chirped and tweeted their beautiful melodies.
The sweetness of warm cookies wafted into my nose.
The friendly breeze teased, and combed my loose hair.
The sun was shining, oh so brightly, like it was smiling.
Then the storm came.
My ice cream melted and fell into a small, pathetic puddle.
The cheery birds migrated away, and were never seen again.
All of the cookies were devoured by greedy others.
The breeze, that was once friendly, became a gale that ripped and tore my hair.
The grinning sun was replaced by grim, heavy clouds.
And the storm came.
Distinctive bitterness took over and destroyed the pleasantness from the licks of ice cream.
The doomed souls screamed louder, and louder, and louder, than ever before.
Rotting corpses, from an old grave, stank while exposed to air.
A strong downpour of rain, of hopelessness, of despair, mercilessly lashed down on me.
An unsettling grayness surrounded me, suffocated me, tortured me.
And the storm stayed.
It is like trying to live, while being enclosed by death, or fighting a losing battle.
Every step I take, every motion I make, is slowed and held down by the storm, like I am sinking.
Everywhere I go, the storm chases me down like prey.
No matter how hard I try, though sometimes somewhat succeeding, to rid of the storm, it still follows.
No one cares, no one sees the storm, and so I pretend that it is not there.
But it’s difficult to ignore something so obvious, something ruling over my life, too difficult.
If someone would listen, if someone would help, if someone would pay attention, just for once, they would see the pain, the suffering, the storm.