Color Wheel

Sometimes,

I get bored by the lack of color in my life

So bleak and lonesome it seems

But even on my blue days I get red mad

and my soul starts speaking orange and yellow

like a bonfire on a summers night

But some days, it speaks deep dark purple

echoing some ancient melody or rhythm

never before heard by modern man

And on my best days,

I feel like a tall man at the top of a green hill

when they ask me how the weather is up here

I’ll say quite fair

But on my worst days I’m 10,000 feet below sea level

at the black depths of the deep blue ocean

with a rusted anchor keeping me down. Even then,

I can rise above my yellow bellied cowardice,

past the grey high rises, to see the bright light of the sun.

Every color drained from me I translate in black ink on white paper

And keep them secret behind my green eyes until finally

after years of crimson chaos I will crown my head in Lilac

And write each hue an apology, and a love letter,

to make up for the days that I stole from myself,

over all the dark places inside my heart, I will paint a color wheel

that this blue world can never take from me.