He knows the colors well,
Skies are blue, sands could be brown
And the sun's rays are yellow
But beyond those is himself
He stays in his room painted in green.
Eats white rice with silver spoon and fork.
And his life- well, it's another story.
It feels like he is a mixture of all colors
And it tends to overwhelm him
And a mixture of all colors makes white
Yet he also feels so empty. Nothing at all.
So, it makes his life black.
And then there he is,
With a blade, he cuts his wrists.
And then he sees a blood tinted red
Streaming through his tan skin.
YOU ARE READING
THE CHANTS OF OBLIVION: Poems and Flashes
PoetryA collection of all phases of life directed away from the light.
