i stare up at the ceiling

and i wonder why me?

why do i go through the things i do?

why am i punished for deeds i have not done?

not that i havent done wrong

i have done good too

good to others

but as i stare at the ceiling

the storm inside me starts

and i bury my face into my pillow

my heart aching 

the storm only grows bigger

grows until it consumes me completely

until i am nothing more but mere pieces of something broken and lost