dead days

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Standing on tiled rooftops, shouting and yelling at a restless sky that can never quite make up it's mind. Stopping in the street, shrinking into shadows, calculating. Following the leaders, ensuring the paths taken are the correct ones. Forgetting that forever doesn't exist. Living like the days are made of laughter and can hold themselves together like the limbs of a tree, strong, steady, interlinking. Then realizing that the days are as delicate as a breath or as fragile as a whim in the deep concepts of the mind and could at any moment, collapse in on itself such like a dying star. Embrace the thought that the light will shine on far through space but at that moment, the star is dead, the days are dead. And the sky still can't decided whether to cloud over and hide this anomaly or whether to let the dead star shine just like it deserves to and consequently, let the dead days be full of laughter.

a/n: But of course the sky was going to represent my mind. The sky represents everything c:

For @Kyberly_Lynn's infintiy contest, mainly based on (a)  xoxox 

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