Chosen Colours

Whoever claimed sorrow be blue and crimson - rage would be are not aware the darkened hues that dwell inside of me Sad - I'd paint in shades of gray Ash scattered to the sea Brown my chosen cast for rage Deceitful eyes were these Angst would be a mix of all, no colors would it lack Begins in psychedelic sprawl, then quickly turns to black The browns and grays I hold inside, less cumbrous than they seem Gazing toward a sunset sky, revives the hope in me Why, you ask, this silly game? I do not fully know but rightfully we all can name the colors of our soul