Red Flowers in a Broken Sky

Red Flowers in a Broken Sky

The flowers rise, like warnings in the air,

Their red breath burning through a restless dream,

Black edges curl like whispers turned to ash,

While something wild distorts what should be calm.

The sky is not a sky, it twists and pulls,

A fever caught between the seen and felt,

Where colour bleeds into a haunted swirl,

And nothing stands the way it once was held.

These flowers do not grow from gentle ground,

They claw their way through something torn apart,

A place where silence fractured into noise,

And left its echo rooted in the dark.

Green surges upward, thick and fierce and loud,

A pulse of life that will not be denied,

It rises through the chaos like a cry,

A stubborn force that will not step aside.

Yet beauty here is edged with something sharp,

A truth that will not soften for the eye,

For every petal holds a hidden weight,

A quiet knowledge no one can untie.

I stand before this garden, still and unsure,

Not certain if it calls or pushes back,

For even in its colour there is strain,

A fragile strength that borders on a crack.

And still it blooms, against what should destroy,

Against the storm that coils within the air,

A fierce reminder something still survives,

Even when the world forgets to care.

Art by Marie381Uk

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