Colors I Embodied
Sometimes color can only be seen with your eyes closed, until its reality
Pink was used to describe me before I came from the womb,
Who would have known it would be the very tomb that would hold me captive,
I preferred blue,
That is what I had become,
Flooded with tears,
Until the rainbow appeared to wash away my fears,
Red was my father’s anger when I cut off my brown locks of hair,
I started painting my skies with lilac,
No longer only wanting to reside in the black,
Yellow warmed my skin,
Green was the nature,
Proving there was not any rules to growth,
That colors could bloom in the darkest of places,
Orange became the fire I set ablaze to who I was,
To become the man that was trapped inside,
Air was freedom after taking off the mask,
Grey became the past,
My lips tasted colors I had never seen,
Yellow honey from the bees,
Made me drop to my knees,
I was one with the breeze,
Gold was at the end of this pot,
I was not made to be a chameleon,
Changing my color for their comfort,
I do not just represent pink or blue,
I am a kaleidoscope of colors,
That I found my harmony inside of,
When the world told me, I could only be one
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Julian Rosas and writers in Poets and other communities.
The lessons I learned from you
The lessons my mom taught me could be viewed as harsh concepts to acquire from a mother. But aren’t we all products of our surroundings at times? My mom reached the lowest point in her life when her brother took his own life. She did not care about report cards anymore from school. She could not get out of bed to cook anymore. She had lost herself entirely in grief. Which is something I boldly understand now. She had met a man that distracted her from the warped reality she was now facing. She started getting out of bed to see him. I was excited thinking maybe the mom I once had so much love for had returned. Until I came home from school weeks later to see nothing, but her bed frame left. My grandma told me that she was sorry. There was nothing that could have said to make her stay. I remember crying in my grandma’s recliner until the fabric was stained. I used to see this as neglect until I realized that this was her way of coping, not to forget about us. Instead, to make it feel like she could forget the depression that left her bound to sleep forever. It was not that I was not enough.
By Julian Rosas5 years ago in Families
How, Too
Many people wonder how, too. You are not alone, and I am an expert. I will teach you how, too! First, you need to remit a small application fee and fill out an application describing the nature of your financial situation and how often payments will be made, as this will have great bearing on how well I teach you how, too.
By Harper Lewis6 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.