Color

Fri, 02/20/2015 - 22:50 -- KayGee

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I painted a life sized mural in my room. Of a lost soul. I made my own paint it was bright red with specks of brown. I don't care about how The cow jumped over the moon, if ball is really life or why the chicken crossed the road. People always tell you to be cautious of Sharp corners, but no one worned me about the sharp words that flew out of peoples mouths like candy. Color coding the curves of my body to up hold to their expectations , diagnose me suicidal, no They colored me suicidal, I never liked taking sides, having sides or even there side ways glances that hit my skin like red lasers off of a snipper riffle, never understood what black actually Felt like until 4th grade when I herd the whispers of those spoiled kids bragging about there heelies, which left me staring down at my tan colored playground Dirt all over my Reebok classics. Its funny how as kids we always thought of water as being blue but the welkins shade of blue was pouring down the peeks of my checks, they didn't even have time to brace themselves for the unfortunate End that they were going to face if they kept rolling, it's crazy even my tears were suicidal, I never knew blue skies because mine were too bussy being covered gray, They said that fat was ugly and one day I'll unfollow this trend, They say that every girl is a princess. But I thought those bitches Had kingdoms and never once did I feel like I was royalty. Telling me the pigmentation of my skin was too dark for your hypocritical eyes to witness, Never taking time to notice how thick the thigh of that fried chicken you were so familiar with stuffing your face with was so similar to the thickness of mine, I guess the thunder clap of my thighs was way loader than the crunch on that chicken skin for you to think straight, they sounded like hurricane weather and you had no time to evacuate. But enough time to try and rearrange the structure of my brain, Trying to make me imitate your color swatches, never noticing. That the time on our watches were all ways different, yours was stuck in black and white, while mine was trying to decide If I should go towards the light, look at the cuts on my wrist and how their stocks mach the brush struck that are on my mural, look into my eyes and try to find the soul that the mural belongs to, cause I'm so tired of searching, nothing looks the same no more, I never wanted to be a rainbow, I never knew color could be so deadly, I guess wanting to be accepted is being able to corrupt yourself well enough for approval. Color

This poem is about: 
Me

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