thunderstorm in the bedroom
By: Louise Kim
a thunderstorm in my bedroom, a
thick dark layer of clouds come to cover up the
white plaster ceiling.
i lay on my bed, unmoving--
i want this to end quickly.
the thunder calls, announcing its arrival
and all i want to do is zone out and hide,
afraid to face the inevitable.
it begins to rain. i feel the first few drops on my arms and legs
and then it starts to pour. thick streaks of water
fall onto my desk and the bed and the sheets and the pillows
and my body.
flowing through the creases in the cotton
sheets, tributaries course through the eroded valleys and
fall down the cliff that is the side of the bed.
the rain feels like knives. the raindrops fall
at the speed of light. piercing through my skin,
wanting what’s within.
thick dark layer of clouds come to cover up the
white plaster ceiling.
i lay on my bed, unmoving--
i want this to end quickly.
the thunder calls, announcing its arrival
and all i want to do is zone out and hide,
afraid to face the inevitable.
it begins to rain. i feel the first few drops on my arms and legs
and then it starts to pour. thick streaks of water
fall onto my desk and the bed and the sheets and the pillows
and my body.
flowing through the creases in the cotton
sheets, tributaries course through the eroded valleys and
fall down the cliff that is the side of the bed.
the rain feels like knives. the raindrops fall
at the speed of light. piercing through my skin,
wanting what’s within.
Writer's Statement: I wanted to capture what depression feels like to me, through the metaphor of a thunderstorm. This is the closest I could get.