Red Skies

Like a maze, these twisted
White hallways, sterile and
Blinding to eyes so used to
The brushed red sky;
Eyes pitch black with
Sadness, yes, but mostly fear.
Corridors with towering
Walls, supporting as I
Stumble across the speckled
Floors, under ashen lights;
I am dazed and
Lost, yes, but mostly weak.
Weak and pathetic;
A parasite who
Depends on its host,
Unable to survive lacking
These forsaken walls which I
Lean on. Sheltered,
As a lamb from the slaughter
By a faithful Shepard,
Above all patient.
Staggering around a corner,
Tired fingers attached to
Sweaty palms dragged
Across smooth paneling;
Stains blemish the
Walls and tiles that are
Touched; left behind so
Beautifully, marking crooked
Lines and spirals.
What is at the end of this
Hallway? Never ceasing, it is
Not. This ceiling, like a
Blanket which shelters, yet
Smothers, restricts, binds,
Cannot protect with no end.

I will cross to where no future is certain.
I will run to where dreams lie in waiting.
Is the sky still as crimson as I remember?