I can feel a storm brewing,

Judging from the clouds,

Darkening cotton that lowers.

I can see the sullen looks,

The folks around wear,

Clouding their once-gleeful eyes.

I can hear the pounding quiet,

Signaling their rage,

Like black storm clouds for the ears.

I can smell the tears and shouts,

A fog lingering,

With drops of vexed blood baked in.

I can taste the baseless wrath,

A smothering smoke,

Fuming from mouths waiting to speak.

I can feel a storm brewing;

Tension starts to growl,

Thickening like enraged clouds.