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Pooja Basnett Mar 16
I am yellow, I am brown, I am white, I am black
Underneath it all, I am just a  beating heart!
I wonder what you see when you look at me,
Oh just tell me, you are colour blind!
Khyati Jul 2020
"The world is colourful"
But, sweetheart
I am colourblind.
Rainbows might fascinate you
But Black is the only colour
I like.
muna Nov 2018
the look on your face
the dress that i wore
the colour i wished the flowers were
and not your heart

the ocean, the skies
the turquoise
and mellow scent of your perfume
that moment we had

my colour blindness
only deceived me
into thinking that it was okay
when you were sad
because you only "seemed" sad
and i might have been happy
and all i cud see anyway was blue
love shouldn't make us blind to the suffering of those loved
Em MacKenzie Nov 2018
Tell me I’m not stupid for allowing myself to feel,
searching out for the next wound before letting the former heal,
I’ve been convincing myself that the invisible path is real,
but it’s not wide enough for two; one can stand and one can kneel.

If there’s anything in this world that tightens my chest,
it’s the moment I am strangled by vulnerability.
I keep it chained away to the very best,
to the very best of all my abilities.
Take all those thrown away phrases
and piece them back together to hit my ears
it’s funny how the long silence still amazes,
amazes me after all these quiet years.

Are you Sonic the hedgehog,
‘cause this is a chaos emerald.
Wipe away the tears to see the fog,
my world shakes when once it trembled.
I’ve got an easy road ahead of me
where the path could be so easy,
but I’m drawn to walk into the sea,
I wish that instinctive pull would leave me.

We humans are such destructive creatures
we turn soil to scorched earth with just one touch.
It’s the curse of emotions and all it features,
makes us decline a cast and accept a crutch.
We fall prey to our monsters like a disease,
do I pick life support or a clean cut cure?
A solid steel spine or weak and shaking knees?
Toxic lungs or a gasp of air too pure?

Should I swallow this gulp of mundane routine
conform and erase all individuality?
The white picket fence in photographs is so pristine
but it’s covered in dust and mold the naked eye can’t see.

My storybook ending is incomplete
as I didn’t much care for the ending.
I traded in tragedy instead of something sweet,
‘cause I’ve never been so good at pretending.
All along there are holes both in the souls and plot,
and I wish to roll but can’t afford the toll as empty hands are all I got
I used to be able to tell you everything
I used to be able to be myself
Now I am struggling to let you in
Now I feel like we´re both someone else

This year has been like a rollercoaster ride
So many lows, so many highs
I've tried to put our differences aside
Just so I wouldn't have to say goodbye

You used to laugh at my jokes
You used to come when I needed you the most
I didn't see the fire through the smoke
You didn't notice I was just a ghost

This time I can´t read your mind
It's been ten seconds, but it seems like an age
It's like painting the rainbow colourblind
How did you end up on a different page?

I used to be able to tell you everything
I used to know you loved me more than words
Now I'm struggling to feel a thing
Still missing us really hurts

26. Februar 2018
Wrote this just now. Hope you like it.
Barker Sep 2017
Life is black and white
With a bit of grey.
This world which I see is very dull.
I try to see
The in-between
But I can't
Seem to free
Myself from the
Black, white and grey
That I see
(c)ibarker
sage Jul 2017
She began to paint one night,
Never having taken a lesson in her life.

She didn't know what she was painting,
She didn't really know how to either.

But she picked up a brush,
And began to speak.

Her bristles spelt out words,
Her colours make the canvas scream.

The works she had done before spoke the stories of her heart,
The tales of her memories.

Anyone who had seen her canvases saw genius,
Saw light.

But when she looked at them,
She saw nothing.

She knew what they meant,
Each story embedded in her brain.

Her pain, and her hurt,
There for people to critique.

And the paint she used,
Seemed so bare and bleak.

She had been so desperate for colour,
She had tried to draw it from her skin several times.

But no one knew,
And no one ever would know.

Because in the end,
the only colour she really wanted to see was black.

Because these greys she saw as she stared at her work,
Told her she would never be able to understand how beautiful her words were.
this was supposed to be happy but nothing really goes my way.
rica Dec 2016
If I was colour blind,
I'd probably see red as blue.
Just like how I believed your lie,
And accepted it as the truth
m i a Jan 2016
what if we were colour blind?
and colour wouldn't exist in our eyes
everything would be grey like the skies on today.

what if we were colour blind?
and art wouldn't dance around in our minds, would our hearts die? would our souls cry?

what if we were color blind?
would our skin colour be a problem, would we still see racism in a random news column?

what if we were colour blind?
and we would no longer be able to see the fantasy of things, and we'll forever be stuck in reality or something.

**what would you do if we were all colour blind?
i was going to add more, but my mind when blank. <3
I went to my eye doctor
And told him I was unstable.
He gawked at me from across the table
Thankfully he tested me
For otherwise I couldn't see
The light in life
Or colours of the trees.
You see, my broken heart was very unkind
Causing me to go colourblind

— The End —