I hate wind.

I can put up with hurricanes.
I can deal with gray days.
I can cope with drizzle.
But I hate wind.
I hate how it pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
I hate that it makes me feel slow on a bike.
And slow on my feet.
I even hate the pretty kites that have been flown in the wind.
Markers to say, "Hey, guess what? You ain't going nowhere fast today."
With the wind at my back I feel erratic.
With the wind at my side I feel like a drunken cyclist.
With the wind at my front, well, it pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
And pounds, and pounds, and pounds.
So, right now, at this moment.
In this place.
With the current mental state that I am exhibiting.
I hate you, wind.
Hate, hate, hate.
Pppppppffffffffffffffffffffffttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.