I paint the world with the colors of my creativity.
I emit a prism of optimism, and a rainbow of joy.
Bright blues, and exciting electric green,
Green forests of my envy over the mountains in my mind.
Dancing purples over frolicking yellows,
and mauve, when I'm feeling a little cheeky.
I skip through my life sparkling like glitter.
It's more fun, you know, to be carefree and full of joy.
Not to worry about the grey clouds that hover over other's heads.
But then you remind me, again, that the world is not black and white,
but shades of grey.
Is it worth it to waste my colors on the colorblind?

Did our friendship mean nothing?
Was the laughter all a lie?
You don't care enough to fix this.
All I want to do is cry.

It started as a whisper.
I lacked confidence in my dreams, and spoke softly.
You brushed my hopes aside, for I was only a child.

I grew and matured, hoping you'd hear my older, more deliberate wish.
Yet in your eyes, I was still a child.
I spoke louder, hoping my volume was the issue.
Yet, you acted like I did not speak.
But I DID speak.
As Webster said, I was expressing my thoughts, opinions and feelings ******.

I spoke firmly.
I spoke strongly.
I spoke pleadingly.
As time passed, my body grew,
along with confidence in myself and my dreams.
I spoke again, a different woman.
I spoke again, for others said I could do anything, for I was me.
I spoke again, more forcefully than ever before, causing echoes in the room.
I was sure you had heard me.
Yet you shot me down, ignoring me and my voice.

And then I screamed.
I screamed until our neighbors, friends and family,
from Korea to California
heard my voice.
I screamed until the dogs in the shelters (and the sitting rooms)
yelped in alarm.
I screamed until wine glasses (and my heart) shattered into a million pieces and fell on the floor.
I screamed until my sound echoed off the mountains and caused the birds on the trees flew away in fear.
I screamed until I fell on the floor, sobbing at your feet.

I screamed at you,
I screamed at me,
I screamed at god.
And no one heard me.

You have muted my voice,
My throat is now hoarse.
But I am still screaming.

It's a funny thing being lost.
You desperately try to find your way home
Using a map
Asking for directions
Looking for signs.
Frantic and roadblocked for time.
Danger at every turn.
It is unnerving to be in the dark.


But sometimes, I like being lost,
not knowing what's going to happen next,
laughing at twists and how they
turn
into dead ends, calling a mystery.
The adventure makes my heart pound,
and I blush, hoping to find my way back to the known.

But, the unknown with you
is better than any known I know.
I am found in your eyes.