There’s a beauty in this that I can’t quite name…



Thundering spirals
Interlocked with vengance
Mother nature’s finger guides
Ripping and wrenching
Everything in its path
Tossing objects asunder
Far and wide
Agression and violance
But solitude and peacefulness
Lie within the walls
Nothing stirs
No remorse or appology
Nieve and lacking awareness
It thunders on
Dropping carnage’s ofspring
In its wake

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