Porcelain

A spotlight serves a greater cause of illumination in a windowless room

against the interior that simulates the abyss.

The porcelain birdcage exudes its silver essence under the rusted bulb.

Red with wonder, but the rust plagues.

 While the bars seem to hold something more

than just confinement, the latch seemingly separates in secret.

While the cage twinkles, it remains

empty in all of its glory.

 Azure fluff hovers in the air revealed by the red hue

 before being vacuumed in the abyss forever.

  The whole still remains

lost, in a decreased scope of perceivability.

 Only when the room’s door creaks open, revealing pure light,

does the beast retreat back into his cage?

Dim light chases a lost moment.

The imaginary spaces between bars filled with aquaneous humour

that cripples the mind of the beholder.

Porcelain is meant to be lit with silver hue,

but the rust plagues.