How The Sky Tells Me Story

it was slightly dark, like mixed of navy blue and grey, as i saw it from between my two curtains. my eyelids tugged themselves down to once again bring me back to darkness. a huff left my lips unconsciously, trying to motivate the weak limbs. as i raised up from the warm bed, it was brighter tone of dark.

it was blue, bright blue. clear and blue. the sunlight warmed me up, making me feel hot everytime. sweats tickled down my back and temples. i cracked my joints; neck, fingers. the sounds somehow satisfied me, like i’d let go half of the burden on my back. it was blue, but i wouldn’t let my day be one.

it was golden orange when i looked up at it once again; not fully but with some stroke of blue-ish purple. i couldn’t even describe it. the afternoon wind friendly stroke my head scarf; it was rather chilly but somehow my heart felt warm.

it was pitch black when i once again looked it up behind the bars of my window. the aching was all over my body. exhaustion got me feeling like doing noting but letting the back met my cold sheets. it was still pitch black as i drew the curtain. just when i thought the day ended for me, it might start from many others.

it is always like that. how the sky tells me a story.

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