A mere colour,
I hardly think so.
A story as it's told,
A secret it does unfold.
The clear bright blue
That masked the water
Of once majestic Baltic
That originates off the Atlantic.
Now holds a darker blue.
How? Let me tell you.
The story begins in Prussia,
Hence the colour Prussian Blue.
With just 55 meters,
Not the deepest of seas.
Wasn't the case always,
An incident supervened.
Prussian farmers,
Lined up for the supply
Of brackish water.
The silence shattered with a cry.
Teutonic Knights slaughtered
In broad daylight the farmers.
Merciless murder,
And they cried "Gott mit uns".
The once royal Baltic,
Now coated in red,
With blotches on the surface,
From the bodies of the dead.
The red faded,
But the bodies remained.
Buried in the seabed,
The farmers took shelter.
Years pass by,
The water darkens.
Giving a new shade of colour.
A new shade of blue.
Two survivors of the horror,
Visited the shore every night,
Claimed to have met their friends
Within the new blue at sight.
The darkness of the sea
Deepened each passing day.
Murderers tinted the colour,
What we now have accepted.
Isn't that how it is?
Killers shaping the world.
And our naivety of accepting
As they propagate, such a shame.
Anyhow, that is the secret,
The story this beautiful colour holds.
Now you know too,
The story of Prussian Blue.
*This is a work that is purely fictitious and has no resemblance to any true story. If any form of offence is passed on to the audience by the work, I distressingly apologize, for there is no such intention apart from pure amusement for the audience. Thank you.*
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