The Sky is Blue

The sky must not be blue. The grass must not be green. I must not be myself. Nor must you be you.

Not a thing must be as it seems. Everything is backwards. Everything is upside down.

I light fires that grow cold. Moonlight burns my skin. The skies are lost to the vast darkness of the stars. The earth beneath my feet rots and festers while the words people speak lose their meaning to the air.

Their smiles are frowns, their purity is injury. Their laughter is pain, their breathing is labor. For if all is well, then all is not well with the earth. No blue skies give happiness to their smiles. No green grass gives innocence to their purity. If I am myself then their laughter is not joy. If you are yourself then their breath gives them no life.

If the sun is truly warm, let its light reach me through. If the earth is our home, let its land hold me fast. For the world has no pull if this is humanity.

My eyes must not see. My ears must not hear. I must not feel. I must not exist. How can it be that it's anything else? If nothing is as it seems and all is as all else?

Are tears shed in sadness? Are screams roared in agony? Do we not smile in pain? Do we not laugh in injury? Is the sky truly blue? Is the grass truly green? Is there anything to believe in anything to be seen?

For if I am human, the sky must be blue.