The colours
of the rainbow
Splattered across the house
When I was three. Blue,
Green and black
Lined my palms and arms
When I was sixteen.
Black black and black
Stain my hands when I am...
Or so I thought.
Black cuts my lips, my hands,
Legs and body, no area
Left untouched. I thought
It ended there but it spilled spilled and spilled-
Sometimes black becomes the colour of the soul.
YOU ARE READING
From the bottom of my heart
Şiirmy homemade poetry #94 in poetry on 17 Dec 2015, 10am #33 in poetry on 31 Dec 2015, 12.36pm #12 in poetry on 17 Jan 2016, 11.58pm All rights reserved © Cover designed by @dcrktimes
