The Weather

the weather is our patriarch of all that survives. it brings life to this world just as fast as it dies. one could imagine the thoughts of the gods whether there is one or more or if they're all frauds. beliefs and thoughts are all i've got. there is nothing else i could have brought. angry dreams, pointless themes i wish i could cry away all the means of the words they say, oh,how they describe them. my mind can't control how i deny them. crying and pouring like rain on a day that screams with lightning that won't go away. my mind makes cyclones like a twirling tornado my heart pounds harshly i guess im afraid,so i must try to hide like a creeping thunder storm. as its all held in the clouds start to form. making scarce thoughts as it where the hurricane's eye everything goes away for a moment...it all dies... so my thoughts originate from a feeling so ornate. the hurricane comes back and my mind becomes irate. then all is done, all is finally through... as i look in the puddle of water i say,"what's wrong with you?"