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Island of Imperial Pigments This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

Ashes.
Abandoned rundown sidewalks were once growing with smog,
Heavy souls like coals
Drowning in despair,
The ballerina petals shriveled to dust,
Spiders crawled in empty bellies,
It rained through their bones,
And burned their bubbly brains,


Until the crimson cloaks appeared one day,
And the yellow fireflies began to shed light through the darkness,
Youth still exists in the silver bay,
They light green leaves on fire as autumn passes through,
As the simple ladybugs creep on maroon branches,
The glowing sun illuminates the evening sky,
And submerge into the bluest bay,
While small hearts kindle with love and passion,
And the diamonds gleam intensely in
The jet-black night,
And shimmer upon
The ivy green leaves,
Rich as an elf’s coat,
And all the while bringing joy to the faces of children with its pot of gold,
Resembling the gleaming sun which glistens upon the serene sea water,
Where the waves sink into the sand,
And children cling onto purple buckets,
Constructing golden castles designed for the royals,
With white beads coating their porcelain necks,
Like pearls of the ocean foam glazing pink seashells,
Decorating the bare shore,
Laying in the palms of children with bronze skin
And emerald eyes,
Once empty,
Now rule the island of imperial pigments.




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