in the middle of a hurricane
the wind blows in her face
but there's no way to hide the pain
or the disappointment of being a disgrace
useless, not good at anything, talentless,
numb, lethargic, lazy, and hopeless
the words echo in the whirlwind
arrowing the girl's mind
for all the times she has sinned
but now she's resigned
she waits for the lighting to strike
for its bolt's spike
to cross her spine
maybe this way
the girl will feel something
other than an emptiness
for being nothing
it's hard living without a goal,
something we're all supposed to own,
so she welcomes the storm with her soul:
out of this hideous world she is finally thrown
