When they speak of blue as a color

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The halls are long and the light is far
Music no one can hear, is in my head 
They read me, yet they don't know who they are
It is a long way and everyone is walking towards death
 
They speak of a color
I speak of texture and  shape
When they talk of blue as a color
I tell them is present, can't  escape 
 
It is all in the depths of human imagination
Meaningless if we don't think of fate
We all have one final, ultimate dark destination 
They keep me here an now I am a little late
 
I walk through fields of men dancing to the giant's voice
I realize they are afraid and they belong to who provides 
They know and they can be free but yet are staying by choice
Meanwhile I keep walking being blue is real, it has many sides 
 
 
 
 
 
This poem is about: 
Our world
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Writer1809

 

 

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