Dramatic

I am called...Dramatic.
Not what my mother called me.
I, I call myself the Storm and Stress,
Because I let my emotions fly,
And they know I do crazy best,
And most wish Storm and stress to die...
I am not wicked, nor evil, nor insane,
Just a little over the top, cresting that hill...
I am crazy, for drama is my game,
And frankly, of normalcy, I've had my fill.
I am called the Sturm und Drang,
And I live for the love of none
'Cause since last I loved, it's been so long,
Since then, I've had so...much...fun.
I am not wicked, nor evil, nor insane.
I live for the duel, the attack, the dreamer's dream,
Holding on to the things that always change,
Never forgetting that I am not as I seem.
I am called an abysmal mess,
For I am always everywhere,
And that I am a fool I confess,
But that doesn't mean I don't care.
I am not wicked, nor evil, nor insane.
I am, therefore I think, and have something to give.
And since tainted blood courses though my veins,
I am called dramatic, yet still I live.
I live for but a blink in time, not too long.
For that blink, my Storm shall deal its scintillating blow.
I will end your chauvinistic chortle, I will show you I'm strong.
And sweet sobriety, oh you, I will have you know:
I am not wicked, nor evil, nor insane,
Only eccentric, too happy at times.
And when I die, still I will remain
With you, corpse rotting away, left only with my rhymes.
I am called the Storm and Stress,
I am called the Sturm und Drang.
I am called the abysmal mess.
I live, but live for not too long.
I am called dramatic, you see;
Name stuck to the man it's on.
But that's not what mother called me.
She called me Nabeed Hassan.