The clouds seem terrified,

They are panicking.

They are running away from something.

The wind pushes at me like a sumo wrestler,

It’s an angry one.

The rain swarms at me like enraged bees,

I attempt to swat them with my umbrella,

However, the wind rips it out of my hands.

The sky turns pale and green,

It must be sick.

Then I see it.

The Tasmanian Devil angrily spins towards me,

Debris surrounding it like the paparazzi.

The spinning cloud hurls a tractor at me,

And darkness floods my sight.