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The Sky Grows Old
The sky grows old, white life is created
Finally, they are free, free from the cell they
Made for themselves,
Free to float, and move, and drift,
However, they soon realize the deception, this is not freedom
They fall impatiently, awaiting their imminent death
Uniformly, yet individually dressed, just falling
There is no escaping this death line.
Embarrassment fills the sky, “what a meaningless life”;
The simplicity shames them.
But then, as sudden as they lost hope,
Warmth is found in the coldest of things.
The smiles on a distant face can be seen,
“Is it smiling at us?” They ask.
Then they realize that their purpose was enough.