If Life Was Like a Poem

Contagion

she did not come into this place
this world, with prejudice in her haste
she did not take first gasp of air
with faint of heart and words to spare
was not color in her eyes
nor a creature she despised
hues of sparkling peace and pure
though its fate, to be assure
her eyes will fade, contort, and bend
colors, words, will unblend
black and white will burst with rage
of reds and blues, as she'll age
the vain distaste of infulence
forcefully taints her innocence
quick to grow, slow to die
in life there is no sweet good-bye