The poison of tranquil is beckoning,

As our world falls apart,

The colourless violence screams,

Tired and drooping, our eyes long to see the blues and the greens.

Shouldn’t reality be real?

This faux truth is sickening,

A forbidden hibernation is welcoming.

An illusion of tranquil swallows the pain,

Can you see them now?

Those few trees, as they gather around a serene pond,



Like old friends during a school break.

The breathing evens out,

And the scars run to hide,

The eyes drink the sweet nectar of light,

And the ears sleep to the music of the night,

Sung by the babbles of the ghost pond.

But the time flies by too fast.

The visions blur and the happy place melts,

Expelling us back into this sinking world,

With memories of warmth and a promise of another lull.

© YellowStylo

For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto challenge.

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