A thunderstorm erupts:

Stupid humidity, thick air, cold breeze.

Black clouds bring the downpour,

The warmth of summer comes undone.

An unsuspecting Wednesday,

Two engines and a thousand kilometers an hour,

Blink away the tears,

You find a half of you is gone.

Visions successfully chased,

Into the skies - brilliant, unburdened - empty.

A perfect world called,

Only the dust aloft answered.

For what is man’s greatest challenge:

To find happiness?

To find meaning?

To find peace?

An illusion of choice;

Am I charging towards something I know is mine,

Or running from something I cannot see?

The thread snaps.

Is the pain of knowing an eventuality? 

For where are the dreams of childhood?

Red, White, and Blue,

It holds true for both.

A home more unfamiliar every day.

A new land I can never fit into.

Two halves; never empty, never whole.

Shattered fractions held together by illusions of a life long gone.

Destruction of the soul,

Cast adrift from the life I love,

Destined to be defined by a life I’m good at,

Waking up from a dream to see a nightmare.

Is it possible for a thunderstorm to end?

Its energy burnt away by its tumbling winds.

For now, I see the black abyss approaching,

And I choose to dive in.