Enigma

The sky was I electric yellow, which was ironic because at the moment my life was a mess more like the color of a shade of sloppy gray. The clouds were fluffy nothing about the sky seemed to define me at that moment, but the ground seems to say it all. The grass was dry and brittle able to break at any moment. That sounds more like my life, more like me. I picked up the pieces of grass. I closed it in the palm of my hand wishing away this life and praying for a life that resembled the happy sky. I watched it crumble slowly into pieces. I looked at the dry brittle grass again at that moment I realized. I would never be like the happy sky because I will always be right here on the ground.