I heard on the news
There’s a typhoon under my brows
It’s a different storm
Because I can select its form.
Would it be a signal # 1?
Silent yet flowing looks just a dry run
What if signal # 2?
A sniff and a flickering show.
Or signal # 3?
Heavy drops pouring, shoulders disturbed by thunder.
Then the ultimate signal # anything it goes…
It has a lot to do with the flood and the woes.
I have to prepare whichever I prefer
Should I tie my neck to keep it in the lair?
Or should I held my hand with a rope
To prevent me from showing in the slope?
Maybe, I have to nail my feet to where there’s a fleet
Like it can save me from all the defeat.
There’s one thing left, a folded handkerchief
Wrap it around my head and feel its velvety leaf
It soothes me best to pour out the emptiness
The storm had come and it never made me less
There’s no harm done, I just let it all passably
Washing the deepest places that forgot to be lively.
But only for awhile
You have to do this just for once
Clear the river that flows inside your lines
Drop all the mud to the sea
That is where it should be
Forget the clouds that dawn on you
The thunder that mocks your view
Release the misty water
Unclog the depths of your nadir.
There’s no harm if you try
Every grown up man had passed this line
Cry out loud, it will not make you less of a man.
Do it now if you feel like doing it today
There’s no reason to fake it like a play.
Tomorrow, the storm will stop
The sun will laugh
You’re still here feeling relieve
Thanking the weather even if you didn’t believe
There’s no trace of evidence in your defeat
But you know better because you can relate.
Come on, crybaby, cry
It will not make you less if you try.
photo: Google Images