Blue Skies

Blue skies shine above the ones you adore,
even though they may boil and bleed
in Dark of Night (when no one knows
what they are looking for) on that sparkling,
ridiculous, unrealistic pedestal.

Blue skies can be tainted by smog, or storm;
a factory spurts smoke into the atmosphere-
it leaves no taste as it fills lungs with delusions
and leaves a coating of dark fantasy,
turning blue skies gray.

But some eyes are blind to the night:
the cold, pressing realization that skies aren't always blue
(and those who only ever see gray are just as wrong).
This pedestal isn't ivory; it's plaster-
all of these unfilled cracks (life is so illogical).

The permanent backdrop of our lives-
it's fading, losing its vibrant color!
Only to be replaced with the lies of
the ones who believe in unchanging blue skies.
I see clouds of different colors (but maybe that's just me).

The End

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