Quietly, I sat upon the river bank where it met the bridge line, the water so deep and dark. I let my hand glide over the surface, trying not to break its unity, but the ripples convincingly tore it away from me once more. How long since I last saw a glimpse of my own reflection?I guess only the years could answer that.
The river undoubtfully holds so many of my memories that its becoming too murky to look through.
The only reflection I could see was the dark skies looming over it like a slow death waiting in the shadows.
Has it really been that long? Have I really gone amiss with my dreams, so much as to which they've become weak and shattered? The soil beneath my feet poisoned the pigment of my ever white skin. smearing, as the wind slowly hissed around them. atlast, the only thing that lingered was my one last deserate hope to see a shooting star in those ever so gloomy clouds of grey.
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