she's like the
cerulean sky
so picturesque
so beautiful
we see her everyday
yet she's unappreciated.

she rains her sadness
onto us
clouding the once beautiful grass
with grey blankets that
covers all;
yet we umbrella
ourselves
not knowing her sadness
never knowing her sadness

and so she shouts
all her dire thoughts
with a bright streak
to call us
to listen to her.

yet we
cover our ears
resisting the urge
to hear her plea
and we cover our eyes
to blind ourselves
from seeing her sad face

and despite all these,
she pretends to be happy for our sake;
casting colourful arches across her face.
and that was the only time she felt
as if people were looking at her smile
even if the arch was for a while.