If truth had a colour
In this kingdom of fragmented gates,
I'm frustrated in being chained in a glass mansion.
The world is trying to change me,
forsaking my 'chess of life' into ruins.
I yearn to soar like an unconfined eagle,
but my talons are like frozen footsteps on glaciers.
My heart used to illuminate like the northern lights,
like a perfect portrait of a poetic sunset.
Now the unkind mind of humankind attempts to mould me,
tormenting the claws of my tiger spirit.
Upon a path of nomadic illusions,
spiritual delusions, struggle to salvage sunrise,
when the horizons are a blanket of black.
Crooning clouds resemble melancholic tones,
when twilight bleeds in burgundy blood clots.
I see seas of sorrow with an unstoppable ending,
when Satan's sighs summon a history of hurt.
His garnet eyes feel like thorns in peacock feathers,
silencing sentiments into a voiceless cocoon,
spiralling spicing moments into solitude, so I summon
my Goddess of Thunder.
The enigmatic voice of my queen of the night,
resonates in calming flawless frequencies.
Like art from abstracts of an architect,
we bathe in my pool of sentimental stars,
delicately dressed in dancing dandelions.
Each petal sparkling in a lake of rose quartz,
under a moon affair of astral rain-dreams.
If truth had a colour it would be her chocolate eyes.
Her celestial nature tells me heaven can wait.
No longer is my concrete onyx heart on fire,
as it glows like a trillion golden dragonflies.
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