The Tornado of Me

Knowing I cannot hold back I do not try Flailing my arms and legs, in a prancing sort of way I am a spinning unicorn, alive and enthusiastic. Others might be looking, or not I dance to my own melody; loudly and proudly. Dance someone yells; some weird stranger. I immediately stop dancing; their command is annoying. Will I dance again? Yes, but not here, certainly. I dance for no one but myself. I run from this instigator, irritated. Alone in my home I gyrate faster than a spastic top Spinning and kicking like a Rockette of the fifties. My cat and dog huddle in the corner, fearful. They recognize this dancing maniac, I am the tornado of me.