A day starting with tranquil headspace,
Beautiful petunias blooming on the bedspread,
Amidst the clouds were numerous dandelions,
A spring day in the mid of cruel summer.
A loud, high pitched merry song was being played morn to eve,
The tranquility doesn't always speak the truth.
Someone was giving side eyes,
Something was concealed,
Something was fabricated.
The beautiful purple night made me to tiptoe,
This tiptoe turned to sway.
A sudden rough dark voice mixed with tenuous instrument filled the room.
It was all lie that the day showed me,
I was being blindfolded,
After the descendant,
the song abruptly stopped.....
