Weather

Out with old, in with the new
All skies are gray, where is the blue?
It was okay then, for the easy route
Though much of it won’t even count;
Never good enough for you
Always striving to find what’s true
Jaded images appear in my head
Forcing me to will myself to bed
But when the pot boils over
I won’t stop like Mars Rover
Finding peace will feel like chasing geese;
Finding calm like searching in an angry mob; 
I won’t stop, not now not ever
Until I start to see
Some better weather