Homes don't grow where I'm from
they only stand stagnant waiting for one to deconstruct a building process.
Limbs leave family trees way before fall happens. It's only a matter of time before one becomes familiar with "**** happens".
Indulged in decency far fetch becomes close Morals become like unread books.
Back-hand to reality some people get it.
Men will hit everything around, before hitting their target so a bulls eye is more like scolded ones golden tongues couldn't fix.
Pictures catch more than a moment
Pictures don't hang anymore the walls are gone. Houses look more like tornadoes  so prepare for hail. Aftermath can make a better beginning. Black looks darker in the light. In the dark your eyes will adjust so black is the new norm.
Accustomed to a ****** up custom where an abandoned home.
no painted walls, a brick mailbox, and a broken garage.

In only minutes, surging wind brought rain, then pounding hail into this verdant canyon. The mountain disappeared into the mist, and in its place the full arc of a brightening rainbow. Almost as quickly, the mountain's face reappeared, while more rain poured down, now through brilliant sunlight. The rainbow remains, plunging its feet into the very roots of the valley.

Unavoidable
Natures dark special effects
Elements Collide.

I want to be the sun,
dancing on grass so green
and dappled through leaves.
The dreams you've never dreamed to dream
whilst sitting by rivers and roaming through trees.
The thoughts you've never thought to think
whilst drawing on foggy windows or walking up stairs.

I want to be the wind,
dancing on waves so blue
and whistling through masts of boats.
The songs you've never sang just to sing
whilst running through darkness of forests and leaves.
The dances you've never dared to dance
whilst squeezing through crowds and moving to music.

I want to be the rain,
dancing on fields so golden
and spattering down on cobbled roads.
The sentences you've never thought to write
whilst staring through windows and rifling through papers.
The words you've never thought to say
whilst running through storms and perching under branches.

I want to be the thunder,
bursting through skies so red
and rumbling across blackened horizons.
The plans you've never planned to plan
whilst crouching in doorways and rubbing your hands.
The walks you've never taken or walked
whilst breathing out fog and sheltering cigarettes.

I want to be the hail,
rolling down hills so steep
and freezing the water that falls from the air.
The hands you've never braved to hold
whilst wrapped up in towels and dripping in warmth.
The hearts you've never dared to love
whilst sitting by fires and colouring cheeks.