The rainbows of my world
Are drained of the seven colors
What remains are the shades of black and grey
In a purple blue sky
Which reminds me of an irony
My each breath  has become
Colors are nothing more than rods and cones doing magic
Or else the world is a colorless mess
And I see it in my eyes
Inside my pupil
Which eats light like a black hole
And traps it inside like love at first sight
I surrender myself in the void my eyes are, leaking the death of shine on their surface
Like a spilled tea
That stains everything I see
It's not self pity
But a realisation of self
That darkness is not a nightly phenomenon
When it resides inside me
Rather than my cold room or uncombed hair
Or the cracks of the cemented wall
Which now grows a flower
Sometimes acceptance is the only healing a mind can bear to go through
Yet I resist happiness like a hot glass of water in extreme summers
It all seems insane, doesn't it?
For how can you go on adding lines to the meaningless paragraph of your story
Only to believe that it will be a masterpiece in the end
I am a master making a piece of my being worth reading
For I have run out of metaphors or beauty
So serving truth without sugar is how I tell the world
That sometimes rainbows leak in the sky
Like droplets of rain
Until they fall on the lush green grass as dew
I drink in the morning in the hope
That Van gogh did something wrong
With eating colors to brighten his insides
I rather choose to swallow the rainbow whole
To unchain the shackles of light
Trapped inside me for years