Ghost

This storm is so far beyond anything call the norm- enough to say I've never encountered such beautiful pain dressed in mother nature's embrace of her son's tears. And if I've been here before it's been to cover my eyes to compromise that the sun comes after the night and I can't take that much light and I'm drowning in rain water but I still lover her daughter that I kiss her neck, but I sleep with the rest. And I'm a ghost in this storm, as the shower goes through me, it washes me clean so I can commit to my next deed.

I'm a kid in a toy store without all the toys, and I scream and I shout to be louder than all the noise, but I whisper like a lion, like a giant, who wishes he could be triumphant but knows that every time he holds all that he loves, he breaks their necks and they curse his name from heaven up above. But from Michigan to Texas I got the same message, I'm a ghost in the storm, what you say goes through me, I can't conform, even if I know I'm wrong.

I used to say I was a victim, now I say I have a sickness, but if you test me, I'll show you how much patience I have left in me. I'm tired of hurting all the people around me, but as long as I remain a ghost, my tears mean the most to those that know I mean to show love but instead I wash away with the rain and down into the drain of forgotten memories.