Its About Him (though it may not sound like it)

Drowning visage of a sweeping sky
Ornamented barely, simply
Like the flourish of an artist's brush
The clouds curl and swagger... Unaware and uncaring.

The foothold eludes each unsure step
Pools of amber implore
Tug ever so lightly and clasp
At a reality that's cunningly warped.

Misguided heretics
Limping god of anarchy
Monstrous apostles
Lurching disciples
"Watch the false vengeance -
Of a lost generation."

She seems disenchanted
Worrying over intricacies
Unimportant
And she knows it.
Disquiet bubbling into exasperation
She loves, hates, messes up and skipping...
Dissolves into the dipping horizon
Of the glittering night sky.