Scene 1: The End of Today (Spiteful Skies)

Ah, snow. Such a beautiful thing.
Isn't it?
I watch the people sprinkle into the dazed, messy, incidental world
Sparsely, patiently, without sentiment
except for to the common end of the school day,
the hypnotic awe, almost ad nausea, of the opulent, frozen air
and snow from the great beyond...

And I, myself, am simply anxious for who I might find to remind me of the spiteful skies from which we so indulge in the warnings of.
Instead of the hustle and bustle of departure, I pursued a trade.
Perhaps I may simply absorb the silent, palpable chaos of the people around me, in exchange for my own strange motives.

It takes me, I move slowly and steadily in my mind.

In a moment, I carry the spite and the against forces of a thousand
the most beautiful, hopeless individuals
Like snowflakes, so ungracefully planting ourselves where we may
In that moment, everyone served the same bitter purpose

Such a beautiful thing, isn't it?
All this to say so little, perhaps
A statement about this gentle, white abyss caressing the idle ground and overturning it with itself

The snowflakes, like people, are the entropy of hatred and purpose defined.
No two are alike, in motive, in shape, in reason, direction,
But none of us ever get close enough to make that observation.
Alas, we are blinded to the fact that
At the end of the day...
Spite is truly what brings us as people together.