1000 Words Contest : The Scream Edvard Munch

A pastel pose of horror;
hands clasped tight
around a gaunt face.
Wide eyed and pale skinned.

You were walking.
With friends? Strangers?
They walk ahead,
You scream alone.

A conflicted sky;
Burnt orange and scarlet reds.
Do you wail on natures behalf?
Or because the sky is bleeding?

You’ve been stolen twice by thieves
But many by artists
They take you from the torment
and give you different faces

Different forms, different purpose
Satire or humour
But they always keep the sky
I guess that’s why you keep on screeching

Can your hands cover the screams of the sky,
Or do you overpower it with your own?
The water contorts about your being
And your spine echoes its bend.

Hush and trust in the blue chalk;
It holds back the tumultuous reds.
The sky won’t spread its embers,
If you stop screaming.