It always comes back to this.

It always comes back to this.
The rain will stop pouring,
on this barren land.
The lightning will stop tearing
the skin of the sky.
The thunder will stop destructing
the silent cries of the crickets.
The wounds will stop bleeding.
The pain will stop killing.

And when it all stops,
it will come back to this -
this nothingness I carry,
this nothingness that I have
been carrying for years now,
this nothingness.
It always comes back to this.