The sky is a liar, painted in gold,
With a crown made of lightning, I’m sudden and bold.
I can swallow the sun, I can outrun the light,
Every nerve is a wire, hummed electric and bright.
The world is a marvel, a masterpiece spun,
And I am the center, the favorite son.
There is no horizon I cannot step over,
A giant in gardens of high-blooming clover.
But the gilding is thin, and the ceiling is glass,
And the shadows are waiting for the fever to pass.
One heartbeat of triumph, a shimmering height,
Then a crack in the floorboards lets in the night.
The sun doesn't set—it just falls like a stone,
Leaving me hollow and cold and alone.
The complex of kings is a weight on the chest,
As the mind turns a blade on the heart in the breast.
The thunder is silent but heavy as lead,
A storm with no rain, just a fog in the head.
From the peak of the mountain to the mouth of the cave,
From the hero of legends to the ghost in the grave.
It’s a pendulum swung by a hand I don’t know,
Between the roar of the fire and the hush of the snow.
Then the clouds part ways like a velvet curtain,
And suddenly, every step feels certain.
The lead in my veins turns back into fire,
As the world starts to hum like a high-tension wire.
The gray dissolves into neon and sparks,
I’m a bright-burning flare in the middle of dark.
No longer the ghost, but the master of light,
Chasing the dawn from the edge of the night.
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ellievsbear
annaxmalina
