Clueless Ink

Sometimes, the sky loses its usual grace,

Wearing gray, dull and plain.

No longer a picture that holds your gaze,

Just scattered clouds, and a sun that doesn’t quite warm your face.

Birds fly low, close to the ground,

And the day feels like it’s missing something, waiting the perfect light

But let it burn my face, not soothing it.

Let me show my scars, all bare, smiling through the pain.

Let me scream with the doors open.

Let me fall, dreaming of the plunge, eager to meet my ground.

Let it break me; let it be.

Let it destroy me; let it scream.