The storm (continuation)

Will I look like a true fighter If I heal the wound carried by my own mother? Will I look more stronger If I wiped the tears hidden by my own father? I ignored the turbulence around me, all I knew the storm has stopped Was I carried away by the coldness brought by the wind or by the pain I carried ever since? Why don't I have the urge to shout all my rage When my heart is numb and the storm’s chapter has turned a new page? Vivid shades of bright yellow paint the sky Flashbacks of my worst pain kept reminiscing All I wish, is too have the urge of shouting my burden Hoping it won't make me less of a fighter.