She has her highs,
I have most of my blue
While all of my messages are read,
no matter what I say, I can barely see much
love out of my purple eye's hue.

Time is golden,
still I tend to **** most of it nowadays
While death is black; my envy is always
present of the green someone makes,
—maybe I'd **** to be famous one day.

My chest feels burdensome,
and too heavy for me to cough.
As I put an end to myself with scotch,
as nothing would sit well with me like a
darker brown spot on an already brown couch.

Blue, red, purple,
Gold, black, green,
Scotch and brown
—seems I'm all of these colours going around.