The sky is always blue some place,

That’s what they always say

A platitude wrapped in the guise of caring

So they can stop looking at your sad face

But it is true: the sky is blue

And gray and gold and purple and even green

In the vastness of the expanse above, 

The rest of the universe and Heaven and Hell between

But does it really matter

Whatever color is being painted by the sky

When the only time you look at it

Is when the day’s already gone by?

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