You are like a cloud lingering above me,
Meant for light protection from the harsh sun
And when I look up and see your light airy wisps, it's supposed to make me smile.
It doesn't.
What would really make me smile is if you allowed the sun to pass through and shine on my face.
And you would interest me more if you were thicker or darker.
Gather more moisture to add to this cloud.
Perhaps you were a black, looming storm cloud that produced lightning?
That would provide me more pleasant light and warmth than the lovely horror you fail to shade me from.
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