The blueish painted butterflies
Renewed—but two—as soot cocoons.
Their tapping hues were kindly passed
To swingers (tutti) both attuned.
Too true, as dozenth roots of two
ingrained in Sound; no one immune
from the ever-known, ever-asked
Desire–Envy in the noon.

I took the plunge into your sea.
Oh, you know what?
I am now hooked forever
on it’s colourless colour.

Lonely is a statue in a room
of movement, I'm static in loneliness.
The collection of others looks onwards.

My smiles static on the reflections
gazing in my heart. Never showing
others the loneliness woven inside.

I want to be more than a ornament
in a room of life. Finding it hard
to breath in a room I'm drowning within.

Why cant I be the flower that radiates
instead of the crystal rose, whose petals
never glisten in colourful  hues of life.

As the wanderer      paints life with travel,
they use not one hue      but all the rainbow.

If I told you my favorite colour was yellow would you believe me?
Even if I was smiling and bouncy and happy as could seem.
You would believe my lies in yellow that happiness in it beacuse i truly love brown but you would question it cause it's ugly and gross and not smiley and bouncy and happy as could be.
But separate brown take it apart peice by piece and see the colour it took to make brown see the yellow and greens the blues and reds the purples and orange and see all, all the effort put in to brown pick it apart and see that I do want you to pull me apart too,
see me like brown,
see what I took and place to make it me to make me seem happy as could be seem look at the yellow colour i say so I seem like me
My favorite colour is brown but you wouldn't believe me beacuse it's ugly and gross and doesn't seem happy as could be.