Within the Chains of Storm

Within the chains of storm
I'm held and tossed about-

A child's toy flung aside,
worn down and broken from
too-rough play.

My voice is weary now-
I've no words left to speak.

Exhaustion fills me like oxygen,
soul-deep and encompassing.

The mask is real now-
No face beneath but
the one you painted-
so long ago.

Alien feeling, this.
No communication left.

Verbs flown and
adjectives spattered
across my mind
like blue paint.

If I could form the sky,
would you let me fly away?