Fears of shame and inadequacy, plaguing the storm of the loud
mind and the quiet face. The end of the storm
waits quietly in the ocean of her insides, twisting and turning and raining at
will. Waiting on a moment to destroy anything in its path. But she holds it together, keeping the storm
together within the levees of her heart and mind. All it takes is one thing to poke or hole or
pull a sandbag and the floods will come spilling out. The weight won’t be so
heavy but it makes for certain destruction. No matter how soft or hard the water
comes, it’s treacherous.
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