i am too much
you can't handle me
you can't handle
my storms.
you want sunny days
when i want the rain.
you want the roses,
but i'd rather pick the dandelions.
they're a lot like me.
you want me dressed up,
when i'd rather be dressed down.
you just can't quite handle me.
i am a quiet storm
that pushes in
and grows loud
and violent,
winds howling,
skies crying.
and i stay as long as i can
then look for the next place to go.