Ok. I feel like I’ve always had a tornado inside of me. You have it inside of you. Just sometimes it doesn’t move. I sort of bloom late, but I know it’s still there. It still twitches. I’m still flinching. I’m hiding in the basement. Trying to keep my head down. Trying not to get shocked. Trying to keep the windows boarded up. Trying to find the words that need a home too, and that home might be you. While that storm stays eating at the front door of my mind.
Listener – tornadoes.