It was a rainy day. Black clouds float past and above
It was almost like she could just reach out,
And touch them from her apartment window.
They're so close. Just an arms length.
All she has to do is extend her arms.
But they can't be touched. Not like that. Not so easily.
Just how close they seem, yet they are forever out of touch.
Reach out to them, and they'll shift further.
Call out to them, and they'll run away.
It's a good day outside. She likes the rain.
Rain never felt sad to her. It felt like comfort.
The blank clouds above are like giant heavy blankets.
Wrapped around the whole world in a loving gesture,
Telling the world, they should all sleep today.
And dream of the years we have all left behind.
She has left behind a lot too. Who knows how much.
Happiness? Has it been left behind too?
She hasn't felt happy in quite a while.
Maybe it's just stress from work.
Maybe she just needs a change of pace.
Has she felt happy before?
Of course she has, hasn't she?
During those long days of summer?
Many many years ago from now.
There was no school, peace of summer break,
The taste of orange popsicle, in a park close to her home
Sitting alone and looking up at the clear sky.
It was a blue sky. Unlike the grey of today.
A lot of the stars that shined behind that sky,
Still shine under the black cover of today.
No one saw them then, no one will see them now.
So many things just get forever left unseen
Both under the bright white light, and the stone cold dark.
Just like the horrors that laid under the small little head,
Of a young girl, with a popsicle in her mouth.
She still doesn't remember most of them today.
That's good. It should remain that way.
Things that are hidden should stay hidden.
But what doesn't stay hidden are their effects.
The sun can keep the stars away for as long as the day is,
But they still stalk her back, right after dusk.
That's why she loves cloudy days.
Who cares if the darkness is gloomy?
At least it doesn't leave when the night falls.
It hides the stars. It hides a lot.
It makes the sky feel full. It makes her feel full.
Happiness? She doesn't want it. As long as she's not empty.
Was she ever happy? She doesn't know.
Was she happy playing with her dolls in her old childhood home?
Or when she dreamt of stories, while laying on her old bed?
But could she have been happy,
When she heard the monsters come?
Not the monster under her bed. She was friends with it already.
But not the monsters that surrounded that bed.
They all clawed at each other until everyone bled.
Their blood stained her pink carpet and shiny white walls.
She wasn't left out either. No.
They hurt her too. They scared her face with their long ****** nails.
Scars that she'll always have to hide.
They kept tearing each other apart, until all of them died.
All of them besides her. Only she survived.
She did. But her happiness didn't.
It left her forever, since that night.
It doesn't matter. She doesn't need it anyways.
What's the point of having a sun, if the night will always come back?
The clouds are a lot better. They hide everything. Even at night.