Violet Skies

They said to me, make a wish under a violet sky and that wish will come true... never did I hear such a lie so true. I left such a wildness as those girls lost their ways, mother and father shot each other and brothers all went mad with normal lives. I went on to write, under those violet skies, poetry calling me under the whistling wind as my heart fainted under streetlamps, I lost my way home; couldn't hear the bands plays "God Bless America" as the whores screaming for dear life was over-pitched and somewhat surreal. Under those violet skies, I made a wish that never came true, only false and harsh light came of it. I was lost, but I wished to be found. I was not loved, yet I wished to love and a be loved. I sat by the phone, waiting for nothing, and nothing did come knocking on my door. not one thing, woman or man came to say "hi" nothing at all, just like the wish under the violet skies, nothing came of it. My life, exactly like my wish, it didn't come true, it was a lie, and I was a goner never to return back to normality. I was captured under twilight and devastated, as the girls walked by and I drank myself to death. I'm only nineteen, and I write like I've lived a thousand lives over and over again. The same way in different ways all together. Summertime is for the flies, as they eat away at the dead carcass called, "life" and metaphors jump out of every single corner wanting to be read over and over and to be understood just once by the foolish. Violet skies rain ash on the poor. Violet skies rain hell down on those gullible souls, like I. "Will I ever find Love?" Love, never rains down, or is given on a silver platter, only to those who don't deserve it, the rest of us make foolish and stupid endless wishes under jet black, violet skies. .6.8.2014.