Super Typhoon

If emotions were the weather

Mine would be a typhoon

The lashing winds of anxiety assail the walls of stability

Piece by piece the foundation erodes into a smoother yet more hollow version of itself

The swirling somber clouds of depression linger above head.

Under their burdensome weight

they collapse in on themselves

and torrent

They barrage all below, destroying

the walls reduced by the wind is no more

The foundation is perforated by imperfection

The collective drops of thoughts linger

They aggregate and pool

creating tides and floods.

covering all in sight and

gradually drowns

all of life

The city of self, initially weak

Is now decrepit

Its foundation destroyed by wind and rain

It waits peacefully for collapse

Not from an external

But from its own weight

And then there was nothing