This infectious sky of purple dye
Clumsily falling to stay high.
Black and gray stroll and sway in suffocating blues.
Tranquil cold, aged and old,
Leaves me a chill to signify.
Rot, I will not,
If, under this azure, I faithlessly die.
The willows in the swamp exhale into the calm twilight,
As crickets and toads sing choirs to the wind.
Enchant melodies of melancholy and delight,
To willless souls surrounding their last breath.
Such gloom devours this placid evening.
Snared in heavy hypnotic hue.
Rousing insanity and despair,
This tainted sky holds no quarter.
The opera of chaos, clouds of anguish.
They thrust and crash into harmonies of nature.
Graced by this sinful shade, they roar and cry.
If only I knew what they really meant to say.
