The Bottles

Last year the windowsill was full
Of bottles red and green
And yellow purple blue and clear
So vibrant never seen

Last week that home was cloaked with black
The rainbow left the sill
The cloud remains but light within
Shows color is gone still

One clear bottle and five blue
Sit menacingly there
A dark blue serpent curls and beats
The natives with its glare

Six days since haze has overwhelmed
The house in anger hot
The people within try to flee
But find that they cannot

They know the bottles clear and blue
May be what keep them there
They weep and wail and gnash their teeth
And wish the sill were bare

But still the shapes are beautiful
They hate them but they crave
The thrill of darkness and despair
Made each of them a slave

Day after day they wait for rain
They watch the bottles shine
While gleaming eyes admire their glow
They don't see its design

For it's the bottles' contents dark
That make their minds so bend
If they could smash their worthless pride
Their misery would end