Sometimes we see things that are not there.
We see things that will not be.

Our minds make us believe,
And sometimes frightening things it conceives.

Sometimes we become frustrated
With the blank coloring book we have created.

We feel obligated to add the details
Where it is not needed.

Some books are meant to be blank,
But our minds cannot comprehend
The dread in coloring at the end.

There's no eraser on our crayons.
Stained like Sharpie,
Blood-like ink on our hands.

We have slaughtered what used to be peace
And now we have found ourselves
At a point we never wished to reach.

How foolish it is to color
Areas that don't even matter.

We should have left it colorless,
Now all we have left
Is a monstrous mess.