Book: Flowers in the attic. Page 2

I looked up at the sky. It was like deep
a bowl of velvety dark blue, flipped up
bottom ukrashenyy reminiscent of snowflakes and crystals of stars.
Or maybe it's my frozen tears that I have
to cry in the future? Somehow, it seemed to me that with his
height they look at me with pity, and I felt
depressed, absolutely meaningless creature
the size of an ant.