The tornado of life

A little girl is standing all alone with a tornado completely surrounding her. The wind is racing, spinning, desperately trying to suck her into the center of the spiral. She can see the lines, it looks like the largest slinky in the shape of a funnel right over her head. Its terrifying, angry, and oh so powerful.

She is fighting with all her might, blood, sweat, and tears to stay on the ground. She cant give into the monstrous wind thats reaching out, trying to grab her off her feet and take her into its core, for she knows that once her feet lift off the ground she may never return. The wind is strong, slapping her face, pulling he dress, her long hair tightly wrapped around her face. She cannot see, she's clinging to dear life with bleeding knuckles she digs her fingers into the barbed wired gates beside her, swearing she will die trying to stay down and survive this storm. She will not allow its fierce power to suck her in like it did before, the last time she barely got away, she almost did not survive.

She doesn't want to be like her friends, she doesnt want her story to end. She's clinging to dear life even in the monstrous winds. She prays for god to give her chains to help her keep her safe on the ground on her own two feet.
She knows she cannot ask for a miracle, she knows she has to bleed, all she's asking is for god to save her soul so she can survive, so she can patch up her wounds once the storm ends and heal. She wants to live, despite the pain, heartache, and open wounds. She knows some of those wounds may never fully heal but she wants to live, not just for herself but for those who did not get to survive the storm.
That little girl is me, the tornado the endless events of trauma, heartbreak, and tears. That little girl standing there is me, shaking, bleeding, barely holding on, pleading to god with a faint voice, a quivering whisper, 'please, help me survive this storm'.