Whether To Cry Or Destroy

The salt from my eyes burn
As does the acid of my tongue.

Might a tempest releive me of sound and sight.
Might I unearth the hatchet
And put it to proper use.

My hand is poised, and in fury.
Only thunder gives me rest.

Dare me to breathe
When I cant catch my breath.
Sway my temper's balance.

Only thunder gives me rest.