looking down ahead of the flights wings,
I saw scratches, on a full proof glass.
Scratches, disorderly, unorganised,
lines, dots, zig zags, bumps,
it was chaotic and disturbing
The glorious skies,
somehow seemed cluttered,
it made me angry and uncomfortable
Suddenly, in a brief moment,
the sun’s rays glistened,
one of them pepped from the puffy clouds.
It shone around the scratches,
highlighting, bordering,
caressing and engulfing.
The scratches formed a pattern,
a labyrinth of unknown,
a myriad of almost mystical designs
The glass turned into a canvas, sparkling,
a message in the briefiest of moments,
scars are pretty, it said!
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