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-A Poem to the clouds-

Art today is by: papanowo (:

Requested: No
Character: Wilbur
Setting: Wilburs house, the street, the beach

Trigger warnings!!!!:
• Implied suicide

A/N: This one, like the title states, is a poem. So enjoy my scuffed poetry.. It's kinda cringe but whatever 😀

Also I wrote this on the plane so 😙

Anyways.. Enjoy!

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|*~Wilbur POV (3rd person)~*|

Rough fingers strummed the quiet chords into the rain. Disappearing through his window, into all the ears that would listen. The harsh shadows sulked their way onto his face, meeting the ones that were already there. They said you could sleep when you're dead, the boy could barely be counted as alive but even then the stars kept him up. At least that's what he'd like to think. The stars where a nice way to put it, rather than admitting it was something far worse. Truth is, he'd be gone tomorrow and he wanted to spend as much time on earth as he could. Finding the beauty in simple things, like the way the strings vibrated against his sore fingers, or the way the rain hit his window, creating a nice ambience.

He walks past the flower shop, Ms.Maisley sparing him a smile. The same place he's been a thousand times before, taking his daily route to nowhere in particular. He had never really notice but today be payed more attention. She had a wonderful smile. The kind of smile that would make your day no matter what mood you were in. It felt like sunshine, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners.

Colors of violet, crimson, and saffron bloom inside my chest, as the tulips you brought to me began to weep the hues of blue you left behind.

He waved to the little girl in the coffee shop, who had always brought him trinkets of any sorts. She was always excited to show him things she found. Her mom, a barista, had nowhere for her to go, so she wondered the streets collecting leaves, sea shells, and feathers amongst many other things. He'd take the things she brought home, putting them in a worn leather box for safe keeping.

Loudly you'd laugh, nature emitting from your lungs. Baby birds hatching from your head as you rid their nests of broken twigs.

He sat on the rotting bench, enticed by the man on the other side. Every day he came to collect a new fact from him, wether it was about snails, the number of balloon sales this month, or a fact about a stranger, he held each and every one of them in his brain. Becoming one piece of knowledge wiser everyday.

Out spewed the green piece of paper from the ATM with eyes. The ding like a prize for blinking back. All it knew how to do was give.

He reached down to pet the small grey cat that would meet him with soft purrs of satisfaction. For about a block it would walk with him, waiting in the same spot everyday until it eventually went a different direction. He never knew where it went, but it always came back.

Under the weather, your pitter patter of loyalty would continue to fall. Following a breeze you couldn't catch up to. Shadowing the whispers from it, I guess I could call you a copycat.

He made sure to wish the mailman a good day as he rode off on his bike. After all, he was just returning the favor. Every day when the post came to his mailbox, he would find a small note, simply wishing him well. Turning the corner, he saw him writing a note to one of the nice old ladies in the apartment complexes. He had given one to everyone but the gesture still meant a lot to him.

Drawing shapes on fabric that would soon adorn your favorite jacket, you pick up your feet to reveal a picture. You wouldn't have known it was there unless you took the time to admire it.

He handed her a shell, a perfect sized hole to put a string through. She seemed to do the same thing everyday. She sat on the beach making necklaces. Although he didn't know why, he admired her passion. Each individual shell, carefully arranged, soon to be tied into a beautiful piece of jewelry.

Shells adorn your body as the sand seems repulsed by your skin. You look to me with ocean filled eyes, creatures only we can recognize fill up the empty space. Tired hands and tired eyes, similar to mine.

He opened his eyes to see the sky consuming him. The rain now freely falling instead of being stifled by a pane of glass. His callused and bruised fingers were frozen through, strumming his last few notes. The sand engulfing his lower half.

A poem to the clouds.. thank you for bringing rain, thank you for bringing life, but the stars would've got to me one way or another

With that, he gently set down his guitar, along with a flower, a button, a scribble of knowledge, the missing poster for a cat, a post it note, and a shell. All these items seemed insignificant but they meant more than you'd know. A single tear dropped into the sand next to them before he walked away. Where to? no one knew. Some say the storm consumed him, some say he became one with the sky. I'd like to think he got what he wanted. Who knows what that could've been, but even though the way this is illustrated it seems like the clouds helped him, he helped them too.

Mrs.Maisleys flowers began to droop. She looked over to where she'd usually see him walking to be met with a concrete wall instead of a smile.

The baristas daughter began to ignore fallen leaves, no longer seeing the color in them, now they were just brown. There was no one to bring them to anymore.

The man on the bench no longer payed attention to the meaningless facts, after all, no one cared to hear them.

The cat slept near the book store everyday, waiting for him to come back. One day a boy had come to collect him, of course this was good because the cat was no longer "missing" but it never went back there again. There was no reason to, so why would it?

The mailman brought mail and nothing more. What was there to have a good day about? He hadn't forgotten to put the notes in anymore, he just didn't feel like it would matter.

And the girl on the beach. She seemed to have similar troubles to Wilbur. She in fact despised the beach now. Her passion was gone and so was the only person who understood her.

Dear clouds, I might be gone but you will continue to remain. Even on the bluest days when it seems like you won't, you will always have something to fight for. Protect them from the stars..

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1165 words

sad ending... pog?

This book has terrible audience interaction rate but oh well

COMMENT MFS SAY SOMETHING 😠😠/Lh/nm

But I do have an important update.

This book is getting close to the date I started it.. It almost been a year since I started this. That's fucking crazy

That being said. I'd like to have 50 chapters written by the time that happens. So I can end the book...

That's right. In 2 1/2 months, this book will be completed

That's scary- but yk, I think that would be a good closing. I can't keep writing the same book forever. After this of course i'll move on to new projects but this is my symphony, that will soon be finished.

i'll make these last chapters count.

I love you all so much, your reads are appreciated (even if you don't comment <3)
I hope you're having a good day/night/whatever time of day it is for you
here's an optional hug headpat or handshake
and some blue: 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Crow