Her Dark Cloud

Oh, just a scrawling of prose about a girl who lives under a cloud...

Cold fingers, cold heart, cold soul; they are all enveloped in a dark cloud.

Around her lungs, the mist curls slowly, constricting every breath. Dare she try to breathe? Or should she succumb to the numbness and let herself slowly fade, slowly suffocate, slowly waste away...

Everyone around her discourages the dark cloud, as if it were an enemy, as if they have no secret dark clouds lingering over their own frail heads! But what she knows is that, even though the tendrils of silent ice threaten to choke her life from her in one oppressive clap of their hands, the cloud has always been there for her.

While others would surely run from her pain, the cloud gently embraces her. Yes, it is always there for her to lean on, even when she wishes it would go away...

A bolt of lightning issues forth from the cloud, striking her soul. How dare she wish the cloud would go away? After all it has done for her, why would she ever try to escape it? It is not merely dark cloud; it is her dark cloud. And so, with only the vaguest hint of lostness, she resigns herself to her quiet fate of living beneath the constant cloud of dread - of beauty - of depression.

The End

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