Purple

Washed, drained- Recognized in the flurry, I saw a glimpse before I closed my eyes and dropped, It was purple. Rid of devotion, yet hanging on to the altar- Scared to be afraid, yet you lay there. Naked, wet with fury- It was purple that sucked your pain. King of stallions, dead on their chariots- Standing tall, mighty, Devotion seized them, and they would not fall, Breaking backs, rather be standing in all my torment, With flashed purple. However- it was not over, Crowds and flurries, all my worries, They moved along and held their kings high, But it showed, in their smiles which broke a line in their skin, Creating beacons of giving in, to which they praised and praised- All day, it blushed their faces and rushed away in a danceless lead. We moved… moved. We worshiped the ones that fed the beast, "It was purple," they all said- It left, I caved, We all dropped and there was no heaven.