The dripping of the blood , from holding the rose by its thorns .
My blood has no colour , through my eyes .
Just like the tear drops of the clouds , falling on my hand .
All over my world , my vision is simply black and white .
Yet some colours I can see , but not in it's original colour .
Could I be an artist ?
Even if my vision with colour , wasn't the real effect .
It feels like an old film at times , or a confusing kaleidoscope with colours , that change from it's real image , I'll never see .
Although in my dreams , the colours are confusing , that's why they call it colour blind .
My friend is midnight , that makes me feel like I'm still a part of this world .
The moon and the stars are white , and the dark sky was black as they told me .
After the rain has gone , a rainbow appears in the sky , although I'm still colour blind .
My eyes see things differently , sometimes dark , sometimes pale .
Music helps me escape reality .
Sending me to a different planet .
I can't see the colour of my eyes , people say they're blue .
Blue , is tears and emotion.
Red , is fire and blood .
White is purity and innocence.
They mean so much .
I may not be able to see my world in its original image.
Even though sometimes I may miss out on the sun that shines .
I finally except being colour blind .
YOU ARE READING
Colour Blind
PoetryHi guys , so this is my poem "colour blind ", I hope you enjoy , if you do , don't forget to vote, comment, or even share , this poem is not about me , it's about how someone might feel if they are colour blind . Anyway see ya soon watt-pals .