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Walk signal

The blackened sky promises more than just rain. 

The promise of complete destruction knocks on a frail, weathered door. 

Open door

Close door

Open door

Half way 

Door falling of the hinges, fresh paint covering the mildew. 

Strange hands gripping the handle, almost loosening the last rusting screw. 

The blackened sky promises more than just rain. 

Syncing with the troubled wind, secretly hoping for the rain.

Still

The unknown, blackened sky promises more than just rain. 

Trust the wind, trust the promise of rain. 

Trust. 

Blue skies painted black with false hope and broken hearts. 

Misguided, falling for the promise of rain. 

Was it wrong to hope, for a little bit of rain? 


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