Once, colours bloomed beneath my fingertips,
A world alive in every waxy line.
With careless joy, I painted paper ships
And skies where suns and silver moons would shine.
Each shade, a song of summers never gray,
Of laughter loud, of barefoot, grassy trails.
But now those hues have slowly slipped away,
Replaced by ticking clocks and grown-up tales.
The red of courage...
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