A Chromatic Chrysalis

A story I am writing gave me an idea for a poem. So, here is my first sonnet. Though it doesn't really follow a typical sonnet's "rules."

Any critique would be appreciated! I'm just an amateur.

In a whimsical city of dreamers,
Nobody wakes.
In a dark land of horrible screamers,
Everyone aches.

Where no colour pigments exist,
It is a righteous, monochrome mess,
There is no everlasting bliss,
Though black and white can sure impress.

Tick, tock,
Drip, drop,
That is the beating of the clockwork’s clock;
Fold and mould and fold and mould,
The birth of an island,
A tale through nimble fingers told;
And through a sculptor’s weary, bloodshot eyes,
Mother Nature’s gift to a mortal’s demise;
Deep down in a colourless sea,
Where sirens sing of a hidden key;
Castles of glass blown by four overgrown kin,
Thundering footsteps sprouting gooseflesh on skin;
In a little lost village shrouded in white,
Lips form bemoaned words, but no sound takes flight;
In an ocean of green with blood as your guide,
You must let your feet fly to venture inside;

The world can be healed by the death of a chromatic chrysalis;
A princess’ heart aches,
The girl must give up her hidden palace, as if a mere ephelis;
Then the dreamer wakes.

The End

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