Through the light of day,
I see over the mountains,
I see the rich colours around me,
I see the vibrancy,
I see the light of day itself.
Is it really that pure?
So instead I wait for night.
I can’t see past the mountains, but why look?
Empty colours surround me.
I don’t see the filter; the alleged purity.
Overwhelmed, the context assaults me.
Darkness lances into me.
I yell. I writhe -
in my bleeding innocence, await salvation. “Saviour!” He escapes me.
“The light of day will save.”
I see the purity ****** itself down in beams.
I see the warmth on my body.
I see the good people.
But still, I see no succour.
I decide not to see, but to look.
I look for the humanity in purity, only blemishes are forthcoming.
Humanity, you have failed me.
Copyright © Sibastien
Often, we see the world from a falsified, optimistic perspective opposed to her true colours, and when we do finally see them, they're quite scary.