A Colorful Day

I knew today would be an introduction. It was fine. But I have no idea what comes tomorrow.

As far as I know, it could be just as fine as today, but what about the days after?

Will I love myself enough to be free, or will I crumble?.. again.

Maybe today was okay, but tomorrow I might be overwhelmed and I'll frantically search cabinets for anything with a point so I can write in red of all the reasons I think I'll be okay tomorrow morning because we were taught that red was an important color. A color of urgency.

Stop signs, stop lights, tail lights, fire trucks, the lips of a pretty girl, DANGER signs, the safety on a weapon-

Sirens. Red flashing, screeching in the streets that were called by someone who can only see red.

Red.

Like the paint on her friend's walls. His favorite color was blue, but his sister lived in the room before him, she liked red.

Like the glow of his friend's cigarette in the night, he never smoked a single one. He didn't want the gray lungs like his mother holds in a milk-white cage.

His color was blue, but he wore purple bruises like golden medals, proving that he's a fighter.

Purple for the identity of his crush, he swore he never loved, but he couldn't help but look at the black sky dotted with fire, knowing damn well that they were looking too.

He could lose himself in green, the forest whispered to him. He liked the orange glow of a night fire, he never cared for a sun, but the dandelions were the perfect shade, and yellow reminded him of the one he calls his Sunshine.

But today, he isn't blue, he isn't purple.

Today he spits red. Red like the sirens, red like the stained concrete before him, red like his marks, red like his hands,

red that dripped from his mouth like it was it's dream to one day escape him.

red like the color he's drowning in-

Red, like the first color of his flag.

You're not alone.

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