The man in the storm

Fading echoes
 Time passing by
 Relentless words
 Form a screeching cry
 Flashbacks and memories
 To haunt me for life
 Tormenting pain and stealthy lies
 Everyone says but no one says how
 I should be
 the man in the storm
 If the storm is the only thing I see
 
 Why should I fight for a ship long lost
 and wrecked in the depth of the cold sea?
 How should I feel
 When each time I try
 I am stripped off of any ambiguity till I
 Am nothing but a shadow of who I was?
 Nothing but the faded Polaroid of a picture titled meant to be
 Nothing but a tiny weed in the ever-growing field
 Like a slender and funny little reed
 Or a little part of dust
 In the varsity of the sky
 So how can you deny
 When I don't see how I can be
 Fighting strong
 When everything you say is right feels like a sick twining shade of wrong
 So how can I be
 The man in the storm
 If all I am
 Seems to be the faded mist in a forest of canopy
 Pebbles in the path of a roaring river
 Winter storm in front of a shiver
 A delinquency in the way of heinous crimes
 A coward’s prayer compared to a Samaritan’s hymns
 How should I fight when all I can be
 Nothing but someone who used to exist as me.