There is something there.

The smell of rain.

The hint of a torrent to come.

It will be a strike-

-for wrongs past done.

Words they caused the pain.


It was hate that cause the billows form

In their heart the clouds will roll,

Till they rage hate for every man,

And then the storm will darken sky

To finish the fight, the hated began

Flash down it's fateful toll.


Lightning strikes,

Death is deemed the price,

For past wrongs they hardly knew

And yet this storm the hateful likes,

It, this revenge, will never suffice.

The next victim will just be you.

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