The world wept that night.
The dry ground became soaked with the tears of the clouds.
The blue sky was dampened with grief.
Strange, isn’t it?
Hours before the sky was a blank, blue canvas.
The yellow rays from the sun painted the sky.
It painted the warmth I felt across my skin.
It gave the fluffy clouds a purpose.
The paint is all dried up now.
The sun no longer feels like shining.
The droopy clouds no longer have a purpose.
The world wept that night.
Black umbrellas covered the lifeless bodies that lay beneath its surface.
Muddy footprints follow the people who have paid their respects,
Their angels hold them tight