The Centralian

No Longer

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No Longer

Hannah Sansoucie, Assistant Editor

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She lays on her bed as death fills the air.

The storm has arrived, unusually late.

She knows with no doubt, it comes with a glare.

The wind blows with anger, growing in rate.

 

Soon, she can hear the thunder all around.

She tries to stop it but it gets louder.

The rain starts to fall, and she starts to drown.  

With no light in sight, water consumes her.

 

Relentless, the storm continues to fight

Then the rain, thunder, wind begin to slow

The sun hits her face like a beaming light

And takes away sadness, making her glow

 

No matter what’s thrown at her, she persists

No longer will she leave marks on her wrists

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