pink lip stick, purple eyeliner, orange bracelets,
green hair, writing with black ink on white paper
blowing blue smoke rings into the air, with time the
walls turn yellow
everyone always compliments the pigmentation on my
face, they call them freckles, they're "cute"
everyone always wonders about my color choices, they think it's
funny, that there's too many vibrant color and they don't "match"
they think there is something wrong with my eyes, "maybe she's color
blind"
but that's not it at all, because all i see is colors, i do not see anyone as a person,
but as a color.
they wonder, they do not ask. they sit and stare or smile and nod.
if they did ask, they would realize,
to pigment means to color, and i am forever color in my existence
inside and outside the lines