by TYLYN
Imagine the ivory in the painting cry its soul out
So blank
Fighting the rust and the silver, piercing
The sea isolating it from the mainland
A figure of rust comes to mind
A song that’s yet to be sung,
And the texture in the dying silver paints a town
Left all my tears unshed,
But no river came for me
“So there ain’t no Jordan for ye”
A flag is rightly by thee, torn and defaced
Ohoooh the sea’s blood tainted white,
And the cold blade sliced away…
At the scarlet us go!
Light tastes of a bitter air, so soft.
The pennant’s stripes are dead in the wind,
The colors coming together seamlessly,
Kinda like Heaven—and a Hell…
A purgatory in-between…
I’m broken. Unbalanced. Unstable—Hey!
So grayscale…
Where hath our time together gone?
And what have I… I wrought?