The Irony of Tragic Times

It’s lightning outside
Hard lines smearing the sunset’s serene canvas
Whilst the storm inside made the paint run run run
‘Til it washed the canvas clean

Not only clean but empty
It’s all that’s left
That and an empty bottle of Advil
While the sunburn of your remarks
Leaves my skin raw and red and burning

Clapping thunder and stinging winds
Could never match the way it hurt when you said goodbye
The deafening way the silence loomed
The iron fist around my heart
Rain should be refreshing
But it hurts and smites and burns
A reminder of the memories
I ruined.

My head hurts
My eyes sting
My throat burns
My mouth’s dry
My heart’s being squeezed so tight it’ll barely beat
And I’m just waiting.