bad weather
every droplet I seem to pour always comes back to me in a tornado. hurling me through winds I caused but there’s a soft breeze by the cup I poured next to you. i hear thunder on the other side, loud wreaking havoc across my cloudy skies. the weather forecaster keeps telling us it’ll be sunny with clear skies, 80 degrees. they tend to smile at me, thanking me for the beautiful weather I bring, never apologizing for the tornadoes on my end.