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Black is the color of immortality. When a man who took his last breath Lays in a coffin And fate decides his destiny to either Journey on a path to Heaven or Hell. And where choas licks the soul of his wife While the man lives in a meadow full of life. His wife is doomed to a life of pain for eternity. Black is the color of rebellion. Where there is a girl looking at the ebony colored sky In a train miles from home with a bottle and cigarettes on the floor. Black is the color of hopelessness. Where a boy hides in a closet Humming himself into oblivion While the birds fly away into the abyss sky from the clamoring of the parents in their bedroom with a weapon of murder in the father's hand and the mother strangling a phone with her fingers on the green button. At the same time the boy longing for a hero to whisk him away.
There are black lips tainted with deceit and fraud. Lips that speak slient unspoken truths And also believable lies That consumes the last drop of innocence Of the one with cursed lips. There are black cats that lurks on the corner of streets Watching their aura engolf passerbys with bad luck. There are black hearts void of all emotion, And there are black crows, That when awakened, They call upon the cloudy season. With the crying face of the sky And wind that kisses softly On the townspeople's skin. There are black towns with dark faces. Black is honest.
Black should be mysterious with a power that Entrances people, not make the fear the unknown. Black provokes emotion, Not force people to feel nothing. Black should be worn to a funeral To show respect, Not death. It should show genuineness, not distrust. It should show that it is a constant In other people's lives whether they like it or not, And it will be the only thing that never leave them. Black should allow freedom and opportunity, not chain You to the world and society. Black should live not die. Black should influence, not dissuade. Black should show strength not weakness.
Black feels like curiosity and wonder when staring at a starry night. Like when there is nothing in the world but you and it. Like you could do whatever you want And know it would be just. It feels like all the power In the world Is running through your veins, And you can manipulate it To your own will. Black feel like drowning yet breathing . It feel like all your hope and dreams Can diminish or come true. It's like every emotion Engulfs your soul 'Til you can't do anything With except transform To its will. Black is wild.
Black should feel like a warrior at its finest, But we all know There is no such thing as an unknown soldier. War on our bodies and minds take a toll. Black is like a madman trying to get revenge, Yet tamed for he is wise In his choices. Black is reckless yet formal. Black feels like a fallen Angel's wings. Dark, powerful, strong, and broad Yet it is unpure, and deceitful. Black is like a chess peice, A peice of a game, Yet it is a bigger game all together. Everything is black in its purest form Black is... a Revolution.
