He's lecturing you again.
He repeats his point several times.
He repeats his point several times.
He repeats his point several times.

His mouth is a torrent of scorching squall,
Clashing against your mask of carelessness.
You exhale calculated and bitter breaths.
Soon enough, there's a tornado on your face.

It's a raging storm of stares.
Yours: uncaring, stony, blank.
His: caring, smooth, bursting
With some emotion you don't recognize.

He simply cares, you figure.
It's a lecture nonetheless.
His words are no different than before.
The words he emits circumnavigate you.

He's still talking.
He's still talking.
He's still talking.
It never ends.

The storm is abruptly over.
There's a silence that stretches beyond you.
He's gone now, never to return.
Regret nips at your conscience.


This was supposed to be a poem, but it went...eh. I pictured Percy and Poseidon with Percy on the receiving end of the lecture.

Review if you'd like. I'd appreciate it. Thank you for reading.

- Jia Marie