Red Crayon

On that day, so long ago,

When deepest darkness did ensnare,

I held my breath, and let it go,

And could not feel the fresh, new air.

And through the trees, and plains, and valleys,

The road was long, the sun was warm,

Leaving behind warm plastic playthings,

And turning laughter cold, forlorn.

What is life now, seeping heart?

Bleeding caps wrapped in nightgowns,

Frozen from a gruesome start,

Taking memories to drown?

What was life before the dream?

That darkest deep latrine-ravine,

The place from which nothing sings,

No birds, no squirrels, no shimmering pearls,

No innocence escapes the landscape's screams.

No sweetness here can permeate,

No light does dare to penetrate.

Saccharine whispers in the ear,

Foul winds betray and disappear.

Awash the shores with diamond sands,

Crushed crystals and skeletal hands.

Beyond the cliffs, mud, death, and stink,

Looming mountains stand in between.

Torrential acid rainfall pelts the path,

No sane soul would surely pass.

But if one makes it far enough,

They'll see the bones of fawns in ash.

And following the trail of oldest sin,

A faint sign that here, someone has been.

Peering down into the biggest canyon,

There rests just one sparkling, big, red crayon.