Thrice
Grey ashen permeates
Your solitary existence.
Locked and shackled
At your minds insistence.
Presented my lively colors
Of sacrifice.
Happy hues rejected,
Not once, but thrice.
Some comprehend not,
What others endure,
To give endless color,
For another's dim world.
They seep in pity,
Harbor anger, complain.
Their self loathing black,
Sets fire to rain.
|