In class work for the week of Jan. 31

My relationship with my dad is like a tornado,
Anytime we speak is resembles a disaster.
Our relationship is full or angry and tension,
Dark and dirty like a funnel cloud forming.
We go months without even speaking,
Like a tornado waiting for it's next big hit.
When we finally do speak again, words of angry and bitterness and thrown about,
As a tornado does with dabrie.
Our relationship is like a tornado,
We both try to act bigger and meaner then the time before,
Like a tornado trying to top its last huge destruction.
Like a tornado, we both how truer feelings locked away inside,
Like the inner beauty of a tornado that only meterologists can appreciate.
Dark and mysterious, and ending up feeling empty
Just like a tornado