Something new born from absence, a fading afterimage but a glimpse of its true self
Blue
Something unborn from presence, a figment of chroma it's blue tinge self
True

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Depression; a blank seal of hate, eerily beautiful
Down and down, petal to petal, spread your scent
Confusion; shifts of fantasy gate, lively beautiful
Up and up, beyond perfection, create your world
Desolation; dark ripples of fate, lonely beautiful
In and in, dream deep and believe, find your soul
Separation; countless tears to rate, timely beautiful
Back and back, keep your memories, get your power

As black as blight, fireflies keep shining. Cold yet bright
Bittersweetly evoking, as spirit is free with winter wind
As blue as impossibility, roses keep blooming. Bold a slight
Relentlessly challenging, as thorns grow alongside blossoms

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Obscure as I sure, tendrils of thorn descending from the crepuscular sky
Nothing was real, the truth pierced my skin. It hurts. Pain is its true self
Its true self, delirious approaches in eleven psychedelic seas of everlasting eclipse
I'm drowned, deeper and deeper under radiance. It's dark. Blue is my self
Under ten ocular sights, where their ghastly motions flicker behind the curtain
And starlights illuminating through my window. I shout. Duality to oneself

Unrealizability of perfection, perfectly unreal. Blue, as a rose isn't

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Image Source 1, 2

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