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The Sky's Comfort

The sky... it breaks from the heavens from up above and descends downward. A silent journey; it falls. Sweeping the air and atmosphere with a graying fog of aging sadness and despair. The melancholy moments do not mature into contentment, but into a more sorrowful face of lifelessness. I do not flee. I do not wish to be elsewhere. For I know that if my blue toe steps from these quaking grounds, my memories will vanish. Like the gusto and zest that sparkled the eyes of who I once was, they silently disappear.

It continues to ebb from above and whisper to more crumbling grounds. The sky.. it gently kisses the clouds and its allies goodbye and farewell, for it knows that once it touches my lips, it too, will grey into a decaying horde of nothing. I'm nothing. My collapsed soul. My broken heart. It will mirror the shards that still linger where there is an absolute barrenness.

But why? Why must the sky, a beauty in its entirety, come forth and wish to wrap around broken carnage? A shattered piece of glass? To change the pastels of earth and purity into the damned shades of black? I hold no color. I barley hold onto this dying corpse.




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