T H E C O L O R S O F U S

Brown

Brown.
Her brown curls bounced up and down, up and down.
She walked into the bathroom, it was dim.
She twirled and twirled, sitting in the shower.
Sitting. Alone.
She hummed, calling out for you, cAlling out for the dragon, calling out for the strange cat.
She sang sweet sorrows, her curls flattening, being compressed and crushed by the hot, hot water.
A brown moth flew through the house, flapping it's gross wings, sliding underneath the bathroom door.
It attached itself to the light as her singing grew louder.
The chocolate colored dog barked, running up the stairs.
They banged on the door, whining and crying, hearing her bitter-sweet song.
That dragon curled it's golden talons around the dogs body, bringing it down to the core. Wrapping chains to it, attaching it to itself.
A new victim, paralyzed and afraid.
She sang and screamed, continuing to sit.
The strange cat continued to bleed out, the song ringing in her ears. Like a flatline to her.
She couldn't escApe it. She couldn't move,
She was stuck
In the belly of the beast.

Brown.