Today wallows in a perilously enchanting hue of post apocalyptic doom. Haunted with its own tribulations it darkens unto a grey murk of empty state.
Leaves falling off of their mothership trees like flakes of rust to dot the streets.
A brown carpet of frigid rapture with no soul willing to cross over in a rebellion to the lights. As a way of confirming the tastefulness of the bubbling abyss which rides in a chariot of wet clouds, darker than pewter skies, chalky in their outward aura.
Keeping with the monochromatic fashion sun peeks out adorned in silvery starkness of a moon.
Today shall be beautiful.
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