If you wish to insult me,
You'll call me a rainbow.
I have never sparkling beams,
To splendour your eyes.
I'm not a spectrum,
Because my soul only beholds one colour.
My hues arent blossoming and spiritful.
I'm not the pretty little thing,
That appears after the storm.
No, I am the storm.
I am the reason people need reassurance,
Of tremblings hands as lightning flashes
By.
I don't belong in the sky,
To be admired up high,
To be treated like a star.
I don't deserve a pedestal,
Because the ground is my home.
I am supposed to be trampled,
Under dark and heavy shoes,
To be dull and natural,
Like my heavy eyes are.
But more importantly,
Don't call me a rainbow,
Not only because I'm not colourful,
But my love,
Because rainbows are temporary,
And I am not temporrary.
Rainbows come out, only when the sun
Starts to shine,
But I promise,
I am not like a rainbow,
Because I will be there,
Even in your darkness,
During the rages of your storm,
Not only afterwards.
(A/n: it has a very darkening start to it I know, but I really like the way it ended... What did you guys think tho?
Xoxo
Nikita)
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Poetic Justice
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