Weather-Shether

My room 
Is completely dark at noon,
Massive storm clouds
In the horizon loom.


Are they what
My mind has wrought?
Controlling the weather?
I think not.


For what reason should I
Want my sun be blot?


The earthy smell
Of the rain.
Washes away a
Very human pain.


Pitter, patter
Pitter, patter
All your shackles,
I’ve come to shatter.


The rain you see
Is really me,
It’s only my arms,
That will set you free.