Thrice

Grey ashen permeates
Your solitary existence.
Locked and shackled
At your minds insistence.
Presented my lively colors
Of sacrifice.
Happy hues rejected,
Not once, but thrice.
Some comprehend not,
What others endure,
To give endless color,
For another's dim world.
They seep in pity,
Harbor anger, complain.
Their self loathing black,
Sets fire to rain.

abusecrydarkdepressionlostrhyme

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CayCay Godwin

December 2, 2017 at 9:40 AM

You go deep quick with brevity - a skill I once focused on the challenge of (love word challenges). This style requires readers with deep mind sets ready to delve, not just skim and surface read. To me, you are very good at such delivery, at intellectually and philosophically delivering at full speed. Just idle curiosity - I wonder if those are your final landings on emotional responses? Bottom line, thru thinking and feeling it, type thing. I see myself. Really enjoyed, Rhoda ... CayCay

CayCay Godwin

December 2, 2017 at 2:14 PM

So, what I call a 'therapy' write? They can write themselves with no concern for pen or paper or keyboard, that kind of poem? Many of mine are my true spills, and many are fiction. Love contests because, to me, they are writing assignments for my muse! Try. Judges know no more than you or I, well, there are exceptions.

Rhoda Tripp

December 2, 2017 at 11:16 AM

CayCay. This write was an easy one for me and I bet total time invested was all of 10 minutes. I was "ticked off" at a person I had been friends with at the time of penning it so the words just flowed. She is a "poor me" type personality and I was constantly trying to lift her spirits with positivity. Well, as you can feel in my write, I gave up. Lol. Thanks for your kindness. Hugs

Paul Callus

November 28, 2017 at 5:21 PM

What a pity that a lifeline is not accepted, and instead one prefers to wallow in self pity and misery. ~ A very expressive poem, Rhoda. Regards // paul

Rhoda Tripp

November 28, 2017 at 7:00 PM

Thank you, Paul. Your encouragement is so kindhearted.