No Longer A Dream

I am disillusioned. The faint gray blanket covering my head is musty. I expected frothy pink clouds and regal purple smoke. Sprinkles of glitter that I danced under as they fell like rain. I giggle and prance splashing into puddles of glistening paint. My world was so bright and vivid! I lapped in the luxury of love!
I have been birthed into a dank rusty and wet industrial warehouse that has been abandoned on the port. Damp and foggy mornings and salt crusted cold metal dangle and perch waiting for me. Waiting for me to live amongst this misery.
When I first entered I did my best to adapt. In fact it was new and exciting. Mysterious and dark. Lifeless forms in the corner didn't phase me but left me curious and concerned. Shadows passed by here and there. I crept along and kept my head down. 'Don't make waves.' And 'Don't rock the boat.' Became my silent tiresome mantras.
Gently we give up and let the tar suck us into the underworld and the joyous spring is no more. Gone are the expectations of purple smoke and frothy pink clouds.

by Shala Drake

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