Swirling, the colors cling to their container
Sloshing in circles they erode its walls
Carving out in smudges, colorful and painful
From a plastic rib-cage like torn parachutes they hang
And bomb shells fell apart upon a colorless sky
To deliver shrapnel into the hands of the ripples
Sliding back and forth upon black a grimy seashore
To explode causing commotion and disrupt known notions
To forget a self forged in between punches
All this color swirls to the top
Ready to erupt from the smallest bop
And yet the surfaces quake and the container remains quelled
For it appreciates its colors swimming deep in itself