Blue skies, not in sight.
White clouds, to heavily gray.
The sun, refused to come out.
The rain poured, murmuring it's secrets out to the world.
Everything, I saw was dull and murky.
It seemed to fit in with my mood, perfectly.
The skies are filed with pain,
The same pain you have coursed.
YOU ARE READING
b l u e b e r r y ✔
Poetry#poetry_1 The peel of a blueberry is tasteless but what matters is sweetness of the inside.
