Misplaced In Maroon Mists

I’m feral like a fox misplaced in the maroon mists of wilderness, only found in woeful woodland. My skin is blanketed in crimson balmy hyacinth feathers from a forsaken rainforest. Misguided on delusional paths, where spring-tides mirror liquified colors of warm diamond tears I’ve suppressed behind ice blue sighs. And I’ve seen splintered petals beneath thick-leaved jewel orchids, that surrendered to greying leaves on tainted twigs and broken branches. I’ve walked through fields of thorns where the musky scent of roses remained a poison to my aching soul. So, why does it feel like I’m chained from vines of changes, that suffocate the sun within me, crucifying the fragility of premature begonia beginnings? Am I to follow the darkness, to cast away the evil, constantly pushing me into a cave of cacophonous silence? As I see beyond the gossamer veil, hiding sharpened talons of treacherous eagles- flying amongst vicious vampires; emerald foes masked as friends, feeding my conscience with cruel concoctions, oblivious to the truth, that I am a bark believer of marigold miracles. So let the steel black breeze and the faceless ghosts of fleeting time, witness how I rise against wicked wolves lurking behind stars within a chiffon laced canopy of nightfalls. For, I am more than the empty labels you’ve placed, like the shame, I’ve buried beneath lyrical lies drizzling from vanilla skies.