Angry Wind
The wind is angry today,
it howls through the trees,
tugging at the branches like
they’ve wronged it somehow.
It sweeps through the streets,
ripping leaves from their perches,
sending them spiraling,
a chaotic dance of fury.
I feel its rage resonate with mine,
a shared tempest beneath my skin,
where the calm was never meant to stay.
The gusts push against me,
challenging, relentless,
as if they know the storm I hold inside,
as if they want to tear it from me,
to join in its wild, unbridled scream.
Today, the wind is not alone,
and neither am I.
