By The-Drifter-From-Heaven
In life's color palette, we cannot really choose,
Life is its own painter and we are but its canvas.
Sometimes we get the blues, an ocean of rue,
We get the gray too, a color so untrue.
Life: a deceptive painter with a cruel brush stroke,
An artist that paints vivid darkness that chokes.
Though sometimes the colors embrace a lighter hue,
And give us hope for the orange, yellow, and gold,
Where dreams are made in the middle of a green meadow,
A shroud of white, life's gift in the night,
And finally it gives us a rainbow shining bright.
1d ago
Jun 4, 2026 at 3:56 AM UTC
By The-Drifter-From-Heaven
In life's color palette, we cannot really choose,
Life is its own painter and we are but its canvas.
Sometimes we get the blues, an ocean of rue,
We get the gray too, a color so untrue.
Life: a deceptive painter with a cruel brush stroke,
An artist that paints vivid darkness that chokes.
Though sometimes the colors embrace a lighter hue,
And give us hope for the orange, yellow, and gold,
Where dreams are made in the middle of a green meadow,
A shroud of white, life's gift in the night,
And finally it gives us a rainbow shining bright.