Colors will breathe

Walls surround me, and although my energy varies my light within refuses to accept defeat.

Unable to be controlled, but if I touch your soul my purpose is complete.

Walls can be a prison, but colors will breathe...

White is not a color, but what you have been told continues to manipulate and deceive.

Walls can hold, but souls will create...

White is not a color, but it is the universal symbol of purity, and peace which will one day eliminate hate.

Walls hold me, and although my colors change my magic within wont allow them to melt.

Unable to be seen, but if you listen they’ll be felt.

How do colors breathe, and how do they feel?

Maybe they’re inside you, but you’re choosing to conceal?

Maybe out of distraction, fear, or by choice? Maybe you should listen to a higher voice?