with the crash of lighting
and cacophonous call
my spirit roils inside me,
twisting and turning
as if burning, as if boiling
being roasted alive
like a lobster in a pot
at a seafood restaurant
claws scrambling against,
clumsily clambering against
clanging helplessly against
the metal walls that are surrounding them
just as i claw at my chest,
trying to rip away
the skin that holds me in,
the body that keeps me here
waiting to be lifted by a tornado
into the sky and then thrown
back to the earth,
a rag doll, limp and useless
and dead.


NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo Day 17: prompt was to write from a different perspective, but i went off prompt thanks to this storm. I appreciate it, Texas.

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