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Dream of Conflict

Silky, the air feels,
Glowing white,
With embers of a dying smoke
The embers of normality

Flowing, the air shifts
A Slight Breeze Emerges
Rocking the Clouds to Sleep

Coarse, the air has changed
Radiating purples so harsh
With a trapped wind,
A wind of callouses 

Furious, the hand emerges
Playing with strings 
Oh the wind is now a storm

The air shall no longer be pure,
The dream is torn apart
The normality no longer normal,
The soul of conflict,
Has blown this heart

-Poem Fanatic
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