At the utmost left corner, stood a slide that twisted and curled into a shallow pit of a trashy nothingness. The blue paint of the slide had been abandoned and dried out long enough for it to transform into a paler shade. Its light color would have produced a type of transcendent hope if only it had not been overlaid and obscured with the brittle, yet grotesque brown of rust. A fairly sized stretch of trees separated the pale blue from the blue of the sky, who would have thanked the trees for such a barrier. The blue and clouds of the sky, who had just been hanging above, did not leave the impression of wanting to be at this particular, depressing setting. No blame could be imposed against the blue and clouds of the sky for which nobody would not want to be around such a wasteland, to be in a wasteland, and eventually to become apart of the wasteland. Of what little the variants of green trees left behind, the trees reminded the blue sky of an expanded grass field, where the sky much rather would want to be. At the end of the pale blue slide had been a collection of a dark, green moss right above the walls which bled with brown that connected the slide to the bottom of the bleak pit that the walls had surrounded. At this same, nearly empty, bleak pit were spasms of dry grass and weeds which seemed like the colors of brown, green, and yellow had been in a rather petty battle in order for the grass and weed to determine which color they would be taken by. The battle between the colors was indeed rather pointless for the fact that the grass and weeds seemed to be much focused on the sky as these same, almost dead grass and weeds appeared to be reaching towards the grand, blue sky almost as it was begging for the sky to pick them up and fly away in order to escape this wasteland. Unfortunately, it seemed that the space between the bottom of the pit and the grand, blue sky had been far too large for the sky to even hear the pleas from the grass and weeds. Specks of white that had been splattered across the bottom of the pit had accompanied the almost dead grass and weeds, as if they were providing a poor effort of comfort, but they only served as subtle reminders of the white clouds of the large, blue sky that proceeded to float away on its own to a new, appealing scenery that this wasteland could never provide.
wont you come back..?
wont you return home..?