Losing My Stars
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As a child, my eyes were so hopeful and vast you would need a map to get through them. As a child, I would watch all the others play and smile to myself "I'm more then they could understand" I would whisper from my bedroom window sill book in hand. But now, my eyes have faded and dulled, my once striking black and blue hair, now seemed grey to me. Even the night sky I painted with my heart seemed to have dissipated. No one can put the stars back in my sky...
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The first time I saw the color, I thought it was a sign that things were going to work out. How could I not see those vibrant purples and cobalt blues framed in a swirling aura of chimerical colors lighting up the rumbling midnight storm clouds as a bad thing? How was I to know then that this color composed of many, but still one, was an omen while the world around us burned? That it wasn't to be our rainbow from God signaling our salvation from the madness that consumed those outside our borders? That the hues I failed to recreate with my crayons and pencils on the floor of my brother's cabin would twist and corrupt everything bathed in its light?
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