She...Phalestine

She turned the corner running, her pain mobilising her feet and making her forget her lost energy from destruction. Barely touching the rivers and puddles of the drowning city floors, she ran to escape the pooling floods, the drastic wetness and cold inside her that threatened to drown her any second. Her mind trying to escape the electric attitude of the rain, heart drops instead of tears, the thunder of measuring loss tore through her soul. A force field to absorb the delicate smashing attack of the storm as a part of her own thoughts, where every piece of increasing mistake soaked into the wavelength of a nightmare noise that kept possessing her extremities, her past, present and trembling future as they all fell to be engulfed by the old rattling drains that connected the ground with the underground and what was decomposing in between. She felt weak. Her legs continued to drag under the broken umbrellas of sheltering bodies. She had no cover, the lonely one in the crowd, the only one in the screaming silence, attacked by the clouds, dark and heavy with letting go. Falling, it seemed like everything was falling on her, like everything was falling for her, to run away from. Things had risen way above their threshold. She was intimidated by herself and her mind. Everything was too powerful to contain. Everything was beyond controlling now, like the way no one could control the battle against the city, no one could control the rain, no one could control the saturation of disaster.