This is a rondeau
Thunder frightens us; it works, certainly
It pushes us inside, dear deity
It’s like a whiplash across the sky
And the flash – an arc of petulance. But why
Do you like to intimidate so readily?
Is it to punish us for being free?
Wasn't it you who gave us our liberty
So that we could be good, allegedly?
Thunder frightens us
Perhaps, like a director, you like see
Our blood – its innate theatricality
Even the innocent will bleed and die
Do you enjoy watching them as they cry?
Do you get off on it. Really?
Do you get off on it. Really?
Thunder frightens us
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