The blue wanted to believe that the truth was trying to turn, run and touch the wronged but death opened the room which broke the silent ground It worked slowly I mean it could not speak could not even touch the ground if it wished It just grew while reality filled ones feelings Men stood green instead of trees and the strongest heart was that of an infant
Hmm well I could explain this but I think a big part of poetry is letting people interpret it. I like letting people turn it into their own.