The First’s Night Passage

Pink lights fuse the wall, with a trembling color,
like scared flames that have lost their vigor.
Faint and bleached,
they rotate the palette with a swift move,
towards the last stage of the rainbow.

The room soft and comfy, like a pillow out of sheer steal,
it welcomes you with a broken smile
upon the deceit’s joyful deal,
bypassing terror with indifference
and fear with a tilted scold.

This is where the bar,
stands high in front of you,
challenging you to the start of your lonely road,
It is set on detriments of a past identity,
that you have to kill yourself,
if you are to break out of the shell,
and march the way on your own.