The Cave

A cave of hibernation,

It follows a natural

Path.

Societies order

Works against the

Current and

Everyone falls apart.

Minds and souls tug

against

One another.

Pulling.

Pushing.

Fighting

For

A mother,

To guide

Us once more

To a safe

Warm

Womb.

Instinct fierce.

Social

convention

overpowering.

A sense of

Impending doom.

Our minds,

A mess and

Our colour pallets,

Spill

All Over the,

Floor.

Creating a chaotic

Mix of

Tones and hues.

Our bodies are tired

Right,

To their,

Core.

To sleep and be restful,

In hues of soft blues.

Candles.

Blankets,

Watching the moon.

Contrasts

Waking before the sun,

Dragging

coaxing,

Pushing,

ourselves to

Get the day done.

By Living in a cloud,

And lenses

Of dark

Grey.

For

Money

Is being made

So that’s

Alright.

They say.