This steady rain is my great bane.
It twangs the veins that wrap my brain.
I'm now, it's plain, a weathervane.
Oh how I'm drained by these migraines!

"Be done!" I plea. "Begone now, flee!"

Reprieve for me?
No guarantee.

Calamity! No end I see.
I guess I'll be a casualty.

.

For the prompt words "guess" and "guarantee." And explaining why there's only a 50-word poem instead of two 500-word flash fictions for the last two challenges!