An ominous, grey sheet

Canvases the sky

Shaking, rumbling, quacking

Attempting to hold back

The heavy rain

He knows his cold, callous droplets

Hurt like bullets

Against a mortal’s skin

But it hurts him

To stretch his soft, wispy skin

among its limits

It explodes

Like a stubborn, strong, stench that steals the room

Like a balloon that was filled with too much air

And the deceitful, dangerous, demonic downpour will touch

The mortals skin he tried

So desperately to save

And to believe

That he was once a blue sky

That was crisp, clean and calm

Before he mopped up heavy rocks