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
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