“I look up at the sky,

I see swollen grey clouds,

From the corner of my eye.

Passing me by,

Are the most varied of hues,

Fiery red,

That lightens the dead.

Orange- gold ,

Whispering to the wind,

Of a freezing cold.

I give them no more than a glimpse,

As I speed by.

Waiting,

I know my fate

it is set,

I cannot change what I have done,

My eyes grow wet,

When I think of what I could have become.

Sight is slight,

Not truly there,

The world is fading,

Everywhere.