She is like a hurricane in the winter. She spits shards of ice that can pierce through hard surfaces like broken glass. She Whirls winds of power breaking down pastures to make her paths.She is capable of ruining ecosystems with her deathly tones. Her sirens and high volume of snarl laughs in the face of the unprepared. Her lies create tears. tears that build like rip curls of tides. Even her coldest cold can burn. With each tear drop forces of pressure constructing underneath trying to make the surface cave. the hurricane does not understand the shore she is attempting to break. She expects the sand of the shore to be weak and this is a mistake. She rips her tides at every open volurnable layer Of the shore. She thinks she knows. She thinks she knows me. I am the sand that build the strength of the shore. However one key point she might have forgot. A hurricane loses it’s power whenever it comes in contact with the shore. The sand is stronger than she expected. The hurricane is weaker when she is face to face with it’s opponent the shore. After winter there is always more. I’m ready I’m stronger. I can survive a hurricane in the middle of winter, and I’m just sand at the shore. She is just a storm that comes and goes.
It’s me a new self portrait.