I wonder if the color green releases calm and renewal energies because it is the earth's carpet, magnetizing us down to earth.

I wonder if the color red wraps around passion and chaos because the blood in our veins rush evermore when we see something we love, and it rushes to our brain when our world turmoils.

I wonder if the color blue spreads hope for the sky as a crutch for those who have nowhere else to look but up to their god or to the formation of clouds that one cannot make sense of their cotton candy essence.

I wonder what color we are. What color does the earth reflect on us? Are we chameleons, morphing into different shades by the hour or are we permanent markers, bleeding deep? Maybe we are gray and receive color by what we surround ourselves with. That's how science works, right? A reflection of light in our retinas.

I am purple. There is a cloud of mystery and romanticism that shields me like a cloak, but my emotions run like rich velvet. Maybe one day I'll find a yellow who bursts rays of warmth. I think I would like to be with a yellow one day, the golden hour of colors.

You are the poem
I will never stop trying
to write.

Lucy looks at her alarm eight times before it’s bed.
Mark can’t meet new people without a pounding in his head.
Fred gets sad on weekends,
And Molly cries a tonne
But Becky’s head keeps her awake until she sees the sun.

Robert doesn’t wake until early afternoon.
Mary let’s herself jump to conclusions far too soon.
Barney’s always manic,
And Ginger talks too quick
But Johnny only sees a crowd to make himself feel sick.

Today I may be Robert.
Tomorrow I am Fred.
But right now I am all of these and they are in my head.

If I’m being honest; I say that a lot. Maybe it’s because I can’t tell the real from the not. I can’t tell the difference between my thoughts and yours, but if I’m being honest; I’ve said that before.

I’ve said it all though; I’ve said hello and goodbye. I’ve seen good angels fall from the sky, I’ve seen a grown man threaten to die on a whim, from years of neglect because he said; nobody loved him.

I’ve seen a good friend, stay just to go. He turned to say “Sorry” met with “I know.” And with a sad joyous sigh, he walked out the door, saying goodbye; but I’ve heard that before.

I’ve heard all the sayings, the
“I love you’s”, “I do’s”,
followed by years of domestic disputes. I’ve heard that I’m nothing, I’ve felt like I’m less, and I’m sure that sometimes, I seem like a mess.

But I’ve seen from this life, all that there is. A small kind of greyscale, of hate and of bliss. I’ve seen of this place, all that I can, And if I’m being honest; I’ll see it again.

But before I do that I have to sort out, exactly the facts, from maybe the doubt, and stop saying the words like I’m afraid to be hurt. but if I’m being honest; I’m afraid it won’t work.

I’m afraid I’ll be stuck just trapped in my head, reluctantly writing the things that I’ve said. Talking of angels, of love, and of hate, I’m afraid I’ll be saying the same old cliches. And if I’m being honest; I think it’s too late.

There is only so much of yourself that you can give away
until there is nothing left
And I was giving you parts of me
that I never even had.

And it's not that I don't love you
It's just that it hurts
It's just that everything hurts

How the **** do I stop hurting?

I wake up every morning
Force myself out of bed
Maybe shower, brush my teeth
Maybe force myself to eat
Keep myself alive

But truth is I don't want to be
I pray for death daily
And I'm sorry
I'm so sorry
You had to meet me.