A TEMPEST FORCE

Short poem through the eyes of someone gone postal (e.g. Virginia Tech campus shooter) .

When the tempest force
starts to rain down within me,
originating from my head
sinking down to my very toes,
only a few survive.

Strategically they fall.
One by one the poor souls fall.
Crying, they have no power.

Ornery they called me.
Confused they dismissed.
What a mistake they made
to misjudge my ways.

Now, they understand.
The pieces of the puzzle
are now put together.
But it is too late.
Crying for their souls,
As they lay in my hands.