the wind screams,
begging, pleading;
the words indistinct
but the desperation unmistakable.
"i can't make it stop," i say.
"i'm sorry."
"i'm sorry."

do the words even make it out of my mouth?
"I'M SORRY!"
they do not.

the sky weeps,
sobbing on the shoulder of the moon.
"go away,"
she cries to us.
"turn aside.
don't look at me."
the trees murmur uncomfortably,
but there is nothing to say.
words cannot fix this.
i can't make it stop.
i'm sorry.
i'm so sorry.

and then...
everything is calm.
the wind breezes by carelessly.
the sky smiles awkwardly at me in passing.
but this is somehow worse than before.
everything is all wrong.
can no one else see it?
i want to scream for the wind.
i want to weep for the sky.
but what good would that do?
everything would remain exactly as it is.
i can't make it stop.
and i'm sorry.
i'm so, so sorry.