Colours of Me

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.



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