It’s thrilling to be an ocean storm
playing with seas, with waves
catching lost fishermen into thy rhythm
of danse macabre
It’s so frustrating to be a storm
following lines some damn meteorologist drew for you
fulfilling all their bad scenarios – what will grow of you?
finding approval in the madmen
It’s so tempting to be a storm
fighting for your own name
destroying what’s bad, creating what’s new
making your own future
It’s so terrifying to be an ocean storm
all eyes of the world fixed on you
judging: who will you be?
Shall you be good, or bad?
And in a maniodepressive juxtaposition
you are both.