Purple Lullabies

These Tuesday afternoons you often find yourself in a purple prison.
Illusions crawl in,
Hammering nails of guilt only deeper than you barely can take.
Zombies in yellow sundresses undress you.
Clawing your skins, oozing blood of what could have been.
Just to snap you out again
To pull back in.
Walls creep in only to maroon you in this sepia you call a dream
When they leave you to your mundane mug of tea.
Albeit they know, you are too scared
To look over your shoulder.
You know that door back there
You have heard too much of purple lullabies.

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Photo by Maryna Yazbeck on Unsplash