Silent

A tornado howling
Trapped behind enamel bars
I tiptoe on the precipice
praying for the fall

Feverish thoughts flicker the bulb
Darkness lurking nigh
A fissure of light, that opportune gleam
whispers with a sigh

Yet the screeching storm remains locked
A passionate fighting captive
Dying from hesitancy and doubt
No longer fierce and rapid

As so the shadow
consumes the light
and the tiger sleeps
without a fight

Author's Note

What do you think?