Yellow

Looking at it now, I see it’s twist, Revolve, sit back, corner, stand tall, The passion of tinge, Direct in it’s senses. But the feelings I feel now are senseless, Dire, despair, dread, demonic, Excuses made, guilt held, rewind I may? Trusting a vision, but hue-less seen. In the morning I’ll see it, Direct in gaze, indirectly, For powerless, but a peon I am, one among, Drifting ever slowly, sea-less, un-driven. In only vague emotion I’ll take it in, Sheltered, relapsing, patterns of lemon, Breathe in the only color that makes me blue, And fall over, edge-less, but gone and gone.