falsehOOd

i've
nothing to
say, yet saying is all i
have.
music; non existent, yet
surreal. of which
some are just while others
are vile. while the most
basic of matter becomes a
complexity, the
occupants
sing,
i go overboard. blue silk; it
flows and flows endlessly. i
play,
it ran,
they flowed.

of all the
things i want, i
sometimes
get. what
matters most, it comes rarely. now of
love,
what? it's in
black,
unexplored. i know much, yet rarely are they
tested. and of
virtue, i
have none
but one: chivalry. no it's
not ending,
but just
starting.

and yes,
indigo, not
red.

on a final note: the eligibility of this entry is not responsible for it's current visual impairedness.