Storms

There are big, scary storms raging,

Tell me which one do you want to talk about, 

the one outside or the one within?

Drops, heavy, break the silence, 

Some wet and visible, others rather dry and invisible,

To the rules of a peaceful night, these drops, defiant.

Do you want to talk about the bright streaks of lightning in the dark night?

Or the similar flashes of memories constantly hitting the mind?

Tell me, tell me more of your desperation to see the daylight. 

As I peep out of the window I think,

It is a mirror I am looking into, not identical but somewhat twin to the storm within, 

Ignorant of everything else, I stare out without a blink. 

Even the loud patter cannot silence them,

My demons, they are getting louder, 

I thought the storm outside was my asylum. 

I turn to look at you curled in a corner of the room, 

Tell me which one of the storms make you do so?

The one with clouds and the moon or the one with demons and gloom?

I know you are desperate to leave and I don't intend to stop you,

I know you lack the strength to calm the one enclosed in this room,

I know the one outside is easier for you to walk through. 

But even then if you ever want to talk,

About the storm within the boundaries of my brain's bones,

Remember, the keys are lost to that lock. 

Walk-in and my demons will sing the lullaby of my thundering tunes,

But, be careful, they will kill your hesitations and they are contagious,

After all, it is better to have one storm outside rather than two within, one in me and one in you.