Prism's Complex.

I perceive myself to be of many colors;

The violet of the sorrow,

The gold beams of the sun.

The evergreen of breath and life,

The maroon of the complex love.

The eggshell of clarity,

And the turquoise of known grief.

I am the prism reflecting off the mirror,

The rainbow hidden under the storm.

The love I see,

Taste,

Hear,

Speak can cascade through volumes

In a time where voices are trying to be hidden.

The black tar of shame threatens to silence under the navy blue streaks.

But like the colors of the wind,

And like the promise during the flood,

I will never let my colors subside.