Irma, Irma, your name called much,
All ruined by your miserable touch;
Crippled by the sting of your love bites,
As you pried your way into our lives.
Irma, as you rushed to us
Whislin your twisted love song,
Like a thirsty matron in a brothel,
Seeking to make captive
Those whose will you could break.
Irma, Irma what made you so angry
Was it that we didn’t accept
your advances, but boarded up
Our hearts from your cold cold heat?
Irma, you flood innocence with your mocking tears,
As shivering lives end or flee;
Yet you rage on with no sympathy.
Your thunderous tantrums ravished
Our sunkissed dreams, as you scattered
Our cherished belongings on our island seas.
Then you whisk away,
anger dissolved, mission accomplished?
Irma, Irma, your pain lives on,
long after you are gone.
By Joel Challenger