A swirly gray, the storm in my head.
I know I’m not afraid in the storm.
Soon it will clear.
Soon the sun will be bright and my feet will be light.
I will be better.
The cool water that passes my feet is never the same.
I will never be the same again.
I was borne of the storm.
A child of chaos.
Now I step out, grown.
With each clearing, with each ray of light,I stand wiser and stronger.
My eyes see anew. My mind, clearer.
I am not the same water.
Some day the gray will come again.
And I know, I will not be afraid.
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