Purposely Untitled

The wind is whispering again.
Singing sweet melodies in C & D major,
humming from its dungeon of happiness,
caressing promises into my soul that'll never be fully fulfilled.
While wrapping its cool around my ear, it lifts me from my feet into the arms of day dreams and imagination,
like i were a stray cat hypnotized by an aroma,
causing me to hover in motion towards a poisonous green scent;
hungry for the mystery.
Gloating in my own mystification, relaxedly drifting into a world that I've only caught smeared still frames of.
Just as the thought of a gestured smile appeared upon my face, my world graveled into the darkest grey.
The beautiful tune from the wind had so naturally transformed into the depressing violin composition that my world has come some what immune to.
There it was, Standing there grinning at me, wearing a black frown crying transparent tears.
The wind was crying again.