I love to stare at clouds
Not because of the fact that they can be
Whatever suits me
When you stare at them

My love for clouds is because they are
Such a cliche metaphoric version of me
Clouds are made up of little things
Always running from their past

But eventually they will make life hell
With words of rain they spit onto you
Strike you down with lightening
Only then do they realize what damage
And despair
They had caused the innocent
And much like me the clouds
Disappear into the thin air