I am a Fauve My love of colors exist not in reality; a fraud but in a recital of never-ending silence
Home and school, the grays of the abusive enigma, Outside under rule, the blacks of the abusive enigma, but the river- Oh, the river-
Blue is not its only love, a reflection of the human emotions, place of a seeking Fauve, And in those waves- a peaclful notion, a boy with eyes closed.
Escaping, escaping, reaching the bottom, a living manifesto, one that speaks from how blue the skin has gone, then purple, and finally, declining from the mindset of a Fauve, the boy has become colorless. And in this case, lifeless.