Blue Sky

How inviting is the writing, piece by piece, it seems to increase.
As I have another beautiful day, in a way, the sky is blue and not grey.
Things could be worst. I could be expired and laying in a hearse.
I once had a dream of becoming a nurse, but that all ended.
Then I was suspended from a life of school in which was all good and cool.
I then sat at home, isolated in a dome created by trickery, that I could not see or hear.
So I started drinking beer, I took a steer off the path headed for destruction, until I had trouble to function.
Then appeared a junction and music was put on hold with the truth I told, with the poetry I wrote.
I have stopped going out so it's been long since I bought a coat.
All seems fine, in my pocket I have a nickel and dime for a rainy day when the sky is not blue but grey.