Paper Kingdom

Yesterday, when there was clarity, I arose resembling the flames of sunrise. Like an articulate artist, entranced in nature, I painted fluorescent hues upon her butterfly wings. Together we fluttered like timeless rainbows. Today in narcissistic times of confusion, I'm drained from fits of indignation, as triggers fade between black and red, turbulence from trials and tribulations release toxic tones into the air we breathe - as polluted minds clip our paper plane wings. As I descend like an anaemic sunset, the language of silence overcomes me. I feel like a soggy canvas soaking in puddles, causing carnage to my heart's paper kingdom - where journals of poetry still hide. I seek redemption, searching for a remedy from this spell of darkness. As sensitive stars shimmer upon wild waves, I place my paper boat on stormy seas - hoping empathetic winds elevate me to her abode. Tomorrow, before the moon loses patience with twilight, to mute the inner demons, I hope to reach the borders of an angel that cries tears of treasure - to rescue her from her paper castle. To soothe melancholic mornings of mourning, I'll place each crystal drop into a paper lunch bag, so we can feed upon morsels of compassion, because together we are an antidote for real pain.