The strom feels worse at night,
when all is dark, and time is less;
awaiting -only after several hours-
is a new day, one I dread.

My heart swells in my chest,
while I silently beg my lungs to fuction,
closing my eyes, I exhale a sigh;
repeating the same prayer,
for as long as my eyes remain open,
and my heart lurching.

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