Cloudy thoughts on a cloudy day, grey as they can be. A tornado of words, the eye of the storm, chaos drops on thee.
Dark skies shrouding in darkness, dulling the colors from their brightness. Dystopian universe permanent at first, is merely a temporary form of reverse.
Wind howl at ninety, the shriek of a woman, crying help me. Everything flies, as the never ending darkness consumes, the once brightly lit town it exhumes.
Rambling on the gale, the bad seems to prevail. Rumbling through the wreckage, only to realize that tomorrow will be better than average.
