The weather in my eyes ( another old-ish poem)

My eyes are the clouds
from which the rain falls.
I do not know
when the sky shall clear up.

Sometimes the sky is cloudy,
sometimes it’s sunny.
Sometimes there are storms,
sometimes there are droughts.

They say we can’t control the weather
but should just be prepared
for whatever comes.
So I take cover.

Do I hide from the weather?
Or just let it pass?
I don’t know how long it’ll last.

Right now I’m in the eye of the storm.
It’s watching me closely.
With every move I make,
the winds change direction.
I’ll need shelter, I’ll need protection.

The weather is in my eyes,
and my heart.
I hope when it’s rough,
nothing is torn apart.

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