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.