Colors of Life

In a world of colors

Each had a place says the angry painter coughing

The colors were all beautiful and made beautiful things

Says the blank dry dusty canvas

People used to see one color being stroked they say beautiful

But the others would turn away

When the colors danced together, they make something beautiful...

But it always does not turn out that way says the un-touched broken paint brush.

The colors would say stay in your place your color does not belong because it destroys

Our beauty when interfering our waltz.

The color is left knowing that others like them can make something beautiful

But they do not

 Knowing in order to live life with color you need to go through the grey tones

To understand life’s meaning says the dried colors

on the chipped aisle in the corner of the room next to the window revealing a sad gloomy Paris...

The smashed and used colors sat there in wonder if they will ever touch another canvas or if they deserved too.

The painter lays in bed with his unable moving hands as the color drifts away from his face.

And for his mind slowly washes the beautiful colors of memories away...

the colors felt guilty on what they have done said the paint splattered on the ground on a broken canvas’s

The lady left in a hurry with aura of red and blue thou it was a beautiful mix...

it made a masterpiece looked sad and miserable. With untouched edges. As if a painter left it without finishing it... and forgotten it...

And the man was left with the color of white fading away painted on his face everywhere

Jealous of one of the other they ended up in the end destroyed on both parts

The color black dripping from the table to the ground slowly embracing moments left.

The colors sitting there in guilt as they now know they cannot rebuild

what they destroyed and created

Because in order to live life through color your going to need the grey tones and thou if you cannot not embrace them

You cannot have life...

The lady sits there once again saying the beautiful paintings he used to make and waits for his return

The last drop of the black paint hits the ground on the broken canvas says the stool

And the colors now understand how that you need black in order to create a masterpiece

But black did not understand the meaning of everything and wanted its life to be full of color and happiness

Instead of being lonely, and forgotten...

He was known for his paintings... and Paris was known for the sickness that was like black paint

Splattered on a beautiful painting. Or a waltz without no dancing...

Some say the colors were forgotten…but had each other in the end and the man too but the paintings he gave to others gave them

Life bright colors... their heart warm tones...

Everyone has an important role…despite the color of you...

And there is beauty. In part of you...

Just need to listen

and embrace the beauty.

That both can make...

A beautiful masterpiece..too..