All the Colors of the Rainbow, One Visible White Light

Poetry is not the window to the soul. It is the soul. The Self. I'm not what you perceive, I'm what I write. You see me in one light. Visible light. My writing fragments that light, like a prism. prison. prism. Prism that fragments me, but shows the whole. The fractured rays so colorful. We're all prettier in certain light. The rays refract off porcelain. Rainbows are passe. Remember: you're pretty in pieces.