A Losing Game
A sea of unique personality,
a sky of pouring emotion.
Indifference pollutes the air,
neglect bleeds into the ocean.

Shifting over time, day by day,
the colours of above and over.
A calm blue to a tortured rust,
a gentle June to troubled October.

Imminent, abrupt, yet captivating,
sifting seamlessly through each shade.
Deceptive, self-serving, yet fascinating,
heaven and hell, across they cascade.

Manipulated and discarded,
drowning in a confusing sky.
Each emotion its own hue,
each silenced by sunset's red dye.

The sea, as raging as it can be,
holds appeal in each wave.
Either bittersweet salvation
or an introduction to a grave.

A resolute stream of innocence,
from a waterfall into the sea.
Shallow turquoise to midnight blue,
a diversion it could not foresee.

The reefs remain kinder to sailors,
while the storms toss them around.
A false sense of security settles in,
they'll realize it after they've drowned.

The depths of the sea are filled with wrecks.
The night sky is filled with dead stars.
Hypnotizing every canvas with a colourful palette,
yet the canvas is left, dulled with scars.

As different as night and day,
But intentions forever the same.
Never open up and admire the beauty,
for surely, this is a losing game.

© Mustafa Khan 2007