My Body now Soaked in Colour

Born into a world of black and white

Rigid lines gripping me tightly

Devoid of colour yet bright

Imprisoned in silence from the lively

Tell me

What is it about the things that appeal when we are young?

Consumed by ideals, wrapped up in duality before life has begun

But, what if the beginning began long after what one would consider timely?

Confined - four years, four walls – living blindly, waiting idly.

Out of sight out of mind

Beautifully suffocating in silence

At heart a creative

Unaware.

Like all traditional paintings life begins with a sketch

Mine was in charcoal. Black.

Though who is to say an artist cannot stray from the blueprint?

And with that I became, Abstract.

We live in constant motion, with time all becomes blurred.

Though the memories vivid, bright and ablaze – easily within grasp

Fingertips fuelled by redesigned pain

My body now soaked in colour.