They called her;

the one who holds skies in her eyes.

Delightfully cursed,

I did not conceptualize that the dungeon,

Meek and dim

Had become the reflection of the fire

That had faintly began to

Wither out.

The purples and pinks

that make up my flesh

become a distant memory

The reds I allowed my cheeks to fill with became replaced,

And all that stood tall,

was the desecrated ghost,

That once danced in the vastness of the

unknown

I laid in that dungeon,

Met the eyes of the ones I trusted,

Watched

as they locked my shackles’ keys,

Stood on the chains

As they commanded me to rise up.

I thought,

Kiss the ground of the ones

The sanctimonious walk on.

Let myself go dim,

Pardon the slashes done at their hands

Be the epitome of their goodness,

The infinite gates of empathy,

And they will free you.

I watched as the tricksters cackled

Bowed as they soaked in the power

Of my blood stained cheeks

As the days went on

The sky’s power diffused into their palms,

I waited for the day I wouldn’t

Feel as blue,

As when the clouds matched the sea.

I did not conceptualize that the dungeon,

Was;

Meek and dim.

It held life without voltage,

An endless cycle of turmoil and redemption.

I did not conceptualize that

I,

Was keeping the torches lit,

The gatekeepers awake,

The affix’s alive.

Similar to the compositions that mirror

Her eyes,

The walls that existed

in the most wicked of schemes,

They were destined to be engulfed

In the flames spoken from

Her vermilion lips,

Eyes alluding the complexions of the sky

For they are supposed to be

all vibrant Shades,

True in their beings.

As it goes,

They called her;

the one who holds skies in her eyes.

possessing the flickers that

Ignited the darkened world.

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