"Paint the roses red", she said

But the roses were beautiful and not yet dead

They held life with their colors, stories they told

Before carved into the mask forced hold

When did the colors of me

Turn to was versus what will be

Where did the infusions of who I am now

Become suddenly blind to the musts of society

They tell me to paint on the lipstick red

What happened to the burgundy of the pain conquered

They say the mirror says beauty should not age

Why cover up the peach wrinkled laugh lines on my face

Powder Pink, upon my cheeks will make it so 

You can not see the suns coral bright kiss from days long ago

Black pencil lines to squeeze tight the eyes

Did my joyous auburn surprises be something to disguise

Streak yellow on the top, like a barbie from a box

Why cover the amber patches from hard outdoor summer work 

To keep the face dry of the blue tears you should not cry

But these sapphire drops built me up from bridges God needed me to cross

When did it happen, that they decide 

In which shades of black and white I should hide

I gave no permission, yet from them others stripped away

Tried to bleed my of my colors, force out all the grey

I am giving it back, these 'colors' they force

For I create my own through love, triumph and loss

They can have what they made the simple primary ones

These secondary colors of mine will be made by me

Not infused by a colorless, mirror made, society