A distant storm roars, a vast enraged beast,

I leave behind me an infinite empty white void,

An empty past of intertwined fear and anguish,

Emotions are converted, fear to anger, anguish to rage,

Tonight I'll make a stand; no more running from the cage.

Decrepid lion of fear, chasing me down,

A storm within me, a growing black typhoon,

Those dark clouds above manifest my dark, pained soul,

My hollow life is but a lost anachronism, a paradox,

I refuse to run, to lose again; hunted like a fox.

With each step I tread, the storm within swells,

A behemoth darkness that flows through my body,

A fulguration of lightning courses through my vains,

I stare at the reflection of my inner self; the storm at night,

Apollo strikes the ground at daggers drawn; in bitter fight.

Screaming spirits surround me in the darkness,

Of past memories, of past failures,

Of lost love and dishonoured friendships,

My life is dead, yet my lonely soul still exists,

I must fight to survive if only with bloody fists.

My life is lost, rapt by this dark, ugly world,

I still have my soul, that swirling stormy presence,

Each shimmering diamond rain drop, mocking my existence,

Is it possible to embody a new life, for it to reincarnate?

That is the only descision that can be made by my firey fate.

By James Womack