I call myself the quiet storm
And you ask yourself why
I don't talk much, but my poetry
Is like thunder from the sky
Getting your attention
Through the words I speak
Pouring my heart out
Even when things looked bleak
The words I write
Sometimes it's me they explain
At other times my words
Were written to entertain.
No matter who you are
Nor your shape or form
All I ask is that you remember
The wrath of the quiet storm.
