I watch from the edge of your sight,
marvelling at the beauty of all your soft, warm colours.
They blend together, a melody,
a song of many become one.
I look down, and I see myself.
My colours are hard, they are bold, and harsh.
They do not fit in the puzzle that is you;
All of you, a whole made of many.
I am too bright, too discordant,
an unwanted harmony.
The song that I sing could meld,
but you do not want it.
I am unique, and some say beautiful;
But where you float and flit,
I work to fly.
My emotions are my dark wings,
Lifting me with feathers of darkest purple, blue, and crimson.
They drift to the ground as I rise,
Memories of hurt, anger, despair, love, and intense joy.
These are the colours of me.
This is who I am, a tapestry, a painting, a bird in flight;
I am apart from the whole.