Lost In A Cyclone

It wasn't about the rain
erupting from the sky,
that had me curled up in pain.
pleading the answer, why?

It wasn't about the thunder
demanding to be heard,
tearing me asunder.
But this ache that's so absurd.

It wasn't about the wind
whipping through my being,
causing my mind to rescind.
Sorrow sent me fleeing.

It wasn't about the sun
shining down burning rays,
leaving me stunned and undone.
Thoughts of you left me craze.

It's all about horrid death.
Being left all alone,
not able to feel your breath,
left lost in a cyclone.

(20 lines)


{dropnote:"Writen for "The Writer's Cramp"  [13+]"}
Due 1/22
Write a short story or poem STARTING with this sentence, bolded for judging convenience:

"It wasn't about the rain."

The genre is up to you.