Weary

It is raining hard outside
It rains into my "room"
The ceiling and wall near the window
Got sopped and become soft
I weary
I weary of my books, maybe
Damaged by the in-coming rain
I weary
I weary when the rain
Becomes harder
The wall may fall
I am not weary of myself
Being killed, for
In the past year
I have already had
A wonderful self
If it is me the time to go
It is fair
And, by the way
I love rain
.