Poetic Excuses

Gray

Bright blue skies,
Just above fields of gold.

Bright green leaves,
Stuck to dark brown boughs.

Small green insects chirp in the weeds,
The darker blades hiding their location.

All these colors that surround us are not loved,
They are shown no respect...

To be able to see colors is a privilege,
They're vibrant descriptions of life...

Not everyone sees the same colors.

Not everyone sees colors at all.

Like me-
Gray is all I see.

Gray skies turn darker,
The fields of gray grow dim.

The light gray leaves grow darker,
Visibly seen by the near-black boughs on which they rest.

The light gray creatures grow louder as the moon rises,
The darker blades still standing tall.

All this gray,
This difference...

I don't like it,
I want to see colors.

I want to be able to see a rainbow across a sky after a stormy night,
To be able to see the beautiful pink the sky becomes at dusk.

Or the blue-green of dawn before awoken for the dread of school for that day...

I want to see the colors of life,
But I lost that privilege.

I lost that ability due to stupidity,
So let me warm you:

Colors are not a game.
You won't realize how beautiful they are until they are replaced with a dark and boring hue.

When you see a rainbow- smile.
When the sky brightens- watch.
When the rainbow is visible- count the colors.

Seeing colors is easy to hate- until they're dead.

I want to be normal again.