Luminescence

Now

It's sort of funny how everything turns out or how everything changes. I mean, one minute you're smiling beneath the radiant sun, and the next you're creating rainstorms with your eyes on the same day, but everything is different. The radiant sun is actually burning so hot, that it's freezing. The skies aren't blue, for it was a canvas that an artist had poured his depression into. The ice cream isn't sweet or refreshing. It's bitter and bleak. The grass isn't green, the grass is a dull memorial for all the people under it. 

Death isn't something I wish unto someone, but my father deserved to be under.