The eye of the storm looks beautiful
You’ll never think it could be
Those who have the power to calm it
Seem to enjoy the beauty of destruction
Those being made empty by the hunger
For love, for life and what makes it livable
Search for what would give them joy.
But those with the power to make it go away
They enjoy watching them suffer.
The power is the sweetest,
So under their thumb we’ll always remain. Subjecting us to pain is not enough
But then comes the shame
The unspeakable and unimaginable horror
They cannot be fully exposed
Or we are mocked.
And yet we itch to…
The private demons we have to face
In each of our private lives
With no hope of reprieve.
With each quarter we hope to change it all.
But the hope is not strong
And the fight dies out
And then over and over
We give our destinies to the beautiful storm
Entrust power to those who won’t calm it
And we moan
But there seems to be no end
To this vicious cycle