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Hammad Nov 2020
I couldn't see all the colors
But when
She showed me
her world
I could see them All
Naeem May 2020
Asleep in a vibrant environment
Colorblind in a restless world
Still in the company of emotions
Flying in a city that's frozen
Dying slow
In a world that never stops
Continues to love
In a world that could never appreciate
The no strings attached purity
Of a heart burdened
By loving more than it gets loved
Liz Jan 2020
Who said the sky was blue
When it's made of other colors too?
They must have been colorblind
Because they couldn't see what hides behind

The clouds
Hunter Sep 2019
Here I am.
Reading between the l i n e s.
To be honest,
I’m quite lost.
Trying to find truth or comfort.

One step forward,
Two steps backwards.
I’m trying to keep my emotions down,
But I forget my eyes speak.

I’m becoming scared and tired at the same time.
This sadness is like being colorblind,
Listening to how colorful this world is from others.

My forest is dark,
And my trees are sad.
Listen I don’t control my thoughts,
I wish you could understand this.

Sleep isn't sleep anymore,
I use it to escape now.
My mood doesn’t just “Swing”.
They bounce,
And recoil.

While everyone moves on,
I’m stuck in this hole staring up.
Something in me just..
That’s the easiest way to describe it.
For once my raw thoughts were able to come out, I try not to feel like this on a daily basis but sometimes it can get the best of me.
DAF Apr 2019
why are all my words gloomy?
aren’t there moments that are silver?
perhaps it is they pass too quick
mistaken just as grey
JR Rhine Jan 2019
My grandfather peels an
X-chromosome off his liquor bottle
skips it across the pool of my mother’s genes
until it reaches me
yellow cigarette stained walls
green ashtray carpet on his tongue
blue back room full of old guitars
black mechanic oil stained hands
sandpaper voice
watching Jaws 4
homeless woman on couch
feeds dog black coffee
brown belly dragging across tongue
Thanksgiving dinners
my brother plays “Purple Haze”
out of a reluctant amplifier
the old folks applaud
the colors are beginning to
battling cancer his way
watching Jaws 4
dog now dead
homeless woman now
no longer homeless
back skin where left ear
used to be
old guitars pawned for
Purple Haze fades to
black as colors do
and they say
it skips a generation
and now when shades
of pink appear white
my tongue grows thick
smoke burns my nostrils
I can only think of
how terrible of a film
Jaws 4 is.
For Tommy Robinson. Rest easy grandpa, hope you got that ear back.
A Jan 2019
My brain has its own form of colorblindness
Refusing to see anything other than monochromatic shades of black or white
You're either something that i cannot possibly be around another minute
Or i don't want you to leave
It can go from content
To barely controlled anger
In a matter of seconds
But what's worse
Splitting or depersonalizing
How am i supposed to know when i mix them as often as others mix their drinks?
How can my own thought process be just as flawed as my vision?
How am i supposed to tell whether you hate me or not?
How do i think in anything other than extremes?
Mohannie Dec 2018
I remember what it was like to have a crush
It was a magical feeling, such a rush!

Having the thought that they might be the one
And when their eyes fall on me, it was I with the sudden feeling of stun.

But now as I grow older
My heart begins to feel colder

Why is this? I ask
My feelings are only a mask

Have I been hurt too much?
Maybe love and I are no longer in touch

I miss this feeling that we speak of
And perhaps, I will forever just be colorblind to love
This has kinda been bothering me for a while. I just feel like I haven’t had a crush or any motivation to have love in a long time. This is pretty stupid but eh.
Erik Whalen Nov 2018
As usual, the last juice in my phone battery petered out as the bluetooth speaker positioned on the picnic table started beeping and repeating the word "pairing" over and over.

That was the last bit of company that I would be able to fool myself with that night.

The rustle of the mighty firs and the deafening quiescence of the oak trees proved to be a captious audience, with the only essence choking back the seeping darkness a fire pit, searing brilliantly at nightfall.

The flames crackled and burst in the sap-filled wood, giving me an opportunity to drown the eve in the fire's sporadic, propulsive popping.

With no more music to accompany me in the night, I tuned my old guitar, which was resting in the backseat of my car, and I slowly worked out the notes to several melancholy acoustics that I treasured in earnest and frequented as I did eating and breathing.

My world should be quiet, but my brain never sleeps.

As if possessed by a sudden desire to purge old memories, I threw that old album that we so cherished in along with the next few logs.

In a panicked frenzy, I pulled the book as quickly as I set it down, hands searing from the heat, and I stamped out the flames with an old coat I had brought with me.

Throwing another log onto the campfire, I took a dried rag I had soaked in some copper chloride and watched as the flame that came out shined almost a sea-foam green, different from the azure I was expecting.

For once, the aforementioned seeping darkness had crept to the corners of the campsite as the brilliant display lit up the whole area, proving to both be a fantastic show of color as well as the first truly chromatic moment that had happened in ages.

No one had come, of course. It was as expected. It's cold as a glacier and there's hardly any beer, so I wouldn't really blame them.

That's it, maybe we're thinking glass half full.

Slumber met me with its sweet embrace, the only silence I would permit to befall me and the only silence I had been grateful to.

Pale sunshine pierced through a single cloud in the morning late.

A crisp chill and the light drip-pat-pat of the falling rain outlined my mood better than my words were able to.

I'm not sure what I need to feel satisfied, but a glass half empty is not a glass half full.

I checked my phone, which had been on a power bank all night, hoping to have companionship other than a text from my parents or a message from my girlfriend telling me to cheer up again.

Of course, the phone was only at 25%, and I had better get moving if I wanted to be home and enjoy the constant rattling of every day life that drowned these natural sounds out.

If I'm only half-here, then I might as well leave.

I must have been the last one to have been ground to rubble.

I had remained oblivious for many years, before I knew what it was to be without my trademark foolish optimism.

That pale sunshine would have served me a fiery orange, scorching the awoken sky in a torrid, infectious sprightliness.

What was once a glorious, chromatic panorama had become a single, stilted picture frame long discarded, the glass broken from frequented moments of reminiscing.

If I had left months ago, would any of you have remembered me?

As I prepared to leave, I picked up that old photo album, now singed at the edges, and picked up my slippers from the side of the fire pit, which were left to dry and instead showered in the early morning.

I threw the photo album in the trunk and packed the rest of my belongings, heading back home to Camillus where I could pretend that all of this noise was good for me.
Hey guys! Just a little string of free-form lines that I came up with during a choral observation last night, hope you enjoy them!
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