Weatherman.

Maybe it will snow,
And bury me in my regrets.

Maybe the rain will plummet,
And wash away my failure yet.

Maybe the lightning will come crashing down,
And come send me to my beautiful oblivion.

Maybe the fog will descend,
And free me of this blood-stained gown.

Maybe the moon will shines,
And run me right through.

Maybe the days will end,
And thus my suffering too.