Colorful

He didn't know they cared.
His lost self is drowning.
Alone in the world he dared,
To look at it all frowning.

He felt like a horse in the water
looking at the light.
He was never seen by his mother.
Gave up because of the fright.

For all this time he was alone.
No one wanted to see him cry.
For all the failures he saw his own.
And wished the world goodbye.

Gulped into a wirlpool of menkind.
Dark, pitchblack at the end of the light.
Nothing he could ever find.
Nothing could make him fight, at least not with all his might.

His idols are weak, and chose to walk on highways.
His family never blinked an eye.
No one could count all those days.
Were he kept asking himself why.

He was a wrong soul in his own life.
He did not belong in this fase.
Lied who he was and took the dive.
As if he was the only one in his race.

Those who follow me will die, he said.
So I will live on my own from now.
But life is not living while dead.
And he greeted his crowd with a bow.

His colours match mine.
That is what scared me the most.
Only I pretend to be fine.
While he saw more and overdosed.

What colour is it, that tangled our lifelines?
Will I meet my colour soon?
I hope it's bright, I hope it shines.
I hope it is the blue of the moon.

Or the pink of a lily.
The yellow of a bumblebee
Oh no, don't look at it silly.
It's not just the colours you see.

Whatever colour it is, it's not shown by the mirror.
We will never see what we carry.
All we will ever see is error.
We hate dispair, yet discard the merry.

He met the horse and the kid.
He was swimming in his own memory.
The thick liquid paint stuck on the lid.
He never even got to say sorry.

Let's paint the world with you and me.
Family, friends, that girl across the street
And for the first time, it's his colour I see.
My colour gave me the chance to meet.

And suddenly, everyone cared
All eyes were fixed on him.
Aknowledged what he had beared.
Everything changed on a whim.

The happy feeling of sorrow.
The delight of burning alive.
Because there's always tomorrow.
It's never too late to strive.

And with pain he said the kid goodbye.
He took the horse along.
He never again doubted why.
Suddenly falling didn't feel wrong.

For he fell and I fell.
And we both stood up on our feet.
We're all good and well.
Ready to start sketching on a new sheet.

What colour is it I wear.
Is it bright and prone?
I claim to have much to bear.
But I was never really alone.