The Storm Poem by Riley Choma

There is storm behind my eyes and fire in lungs.
You are an eight armed tyrant with smooth words that cut deep.
I am running blindfolded from your habit of throwing knives, and ending up further back than when this began.
Endlessly I am clawing at the back of my head as if looking for the eyes that I was made to believe were there.
You had me convinced this was just tough life, tough love: normality because life isn't fair.
I am engulfed in false reassurances, and stomach sick from this rocky sea.
Lost in a mind warp I am jumping down rabbit holes looking for things that don't exist: answers.
You had me circling rock bottom while suspended.
I have been waiting for the moment I would hit it, and that moment is now.
With any luck new beginnings will remind me that things are always more beautiful after the storm.