The True Colour

I recall analyzing with some loon Playing the role of a human being A role my intellect almost fell for. The fine night was about to be called soon Until I’ve witnessed her chance of keying All cause her functioning brain became sore Was constructive criticism a sin? Or was it a chance for her unplanned fleeing? At least I’ve seen her colour behind a closed door.. Worthless pieces of paper in the bin and on the floor