The weather man isn't always perfectly right
Same as the psychologist who works on sight
However the storm rolls in the same exact way
With the same emotions and damage, but doesn't stay
It always begins with a light cool rain
That washes away some of the pent up pain
Suffocating heat swells to the neck and chest
It'll allow the consumed to dream but never rest
Thunder rolls in with the intensity of a raised voice
Forcing all to seek shelter as if we had a choice
Lightning thrashes across the sky and anxieties eye
Allowing only a few words to be uttered, and a cry
As quickly as the storm came it leaves all in its wake
Breathing becomes lower and the pain becomes an ache
The storm has passed for now at the very least
It has become for now a satisfied and quiet beast
Anxiety and thunderstorms go hand in hand
Wrecking havoc on the peace across the land
