Pregnant with meaning and implication the rainbow glared at me from the angry red skies.
A savoury situation. The skies laughed at my thoughts, mocked my terror. I needed that glare.
The heavens frowned at me, miniscule me…insignificant me.
It was my fault after all.
My body ached in recognition. Tumultuous recognition. It was right, as usual.
Swervingly i clung to the lamppost leaning solely on its strength.
I clung and I ached and I cried.
The lamppost staggered in the wind, moving me left and right gauging my emotions precisely.
The red skies were clearly on purpose. The rainbow scanned the paths for my return down that crooked path.
Shaking in fear of being noticed my heart tore open bellowing in anxiety of the truth.
I swore i would let the skies know… my deepest frets, the pang of culpability.
My ambitions and worries, my goals and tribulations, my identity and qualms will climb the trees and run through the clouds.
They would roam free in the breeze and be carried gently by the stream.
Why then does the sky understand? Malevolently misconstrued by the failings of this world or benevolently scratching through the surface.
Fault or pleasure.
Pain or liberty.