Fitted, supposedly,
"The right way" to go.
A standard, of which,
We follow.
A boundary, a plain world,
Needs a splatter of paints.
A gentle evil, that,
To hide it, this world taints.
A fever, at it's roots,
To stay in a straight line,
To stand straight, be normal.
To be satisfied, with plain old beige.
YOU ARE READING
Colorful
PoetryJust a poem book about colors to make you think. Comment and enjoy the poetry. <3
