The Language of Primaries

She heard the colors talking to her, In the throat of winter. She heard the papers shouting at her, Whispering...tick tock... ..Tick tock... All you have to do to make it better, Is take a handful of these magic beans. Its fine, It’s safer then it seems. She needs me to take her to the city, She needs to get out of this town. I need you to whisper shades, To drown out all these sounds. You will never learn to live if you never learn to be, Take a handful of these magic beans, It’s okay, It won't hurt, Even if one quickly becomes three. If three will become five, It's better to be dead, Then not know if you’re alive, Take me out of this apartment, Make the windows shut up. You shove cotton in your ears, Until the colors bleed out. One will be three, Three will be four, How much can it hurt? The colors whisper... One more.