achroous

seven

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sometimes i get exhausted

to see the world all black and white.

especially when i am in a biology class

and they are talking about how

the red liquid is flowing through our vessels.

because it isn't true.

i've seen mine.

i even remember the first time

i've ever seen my blood.

i'd cut my finger when i was cooking my favorite meal.

i shouted at my mother.

"my blood is black."

she'd look at me as though i was insane.

i remember.

"it's red." she denied. "it's just you cannot see it."

if i cannot see it red, doesn't it mean it's not red?

it's my blood.

mine.

i should know it better than anyone else.

ever since, if anyone asks me what my eye color is,

i say dark grey instead of deep brown,

i say my hair is black instead of brown,

because it's what i see

and the body is mine.

then it makes me realize

that colors have

a huge part of life.

and i lack it.

i wish people could see

that they are so lucky

and some aren't.

i wish they would just stop

commuting suicide and

feeling worthless.

because everyone is worth

living and being loved.

and nobody is utterly lonely.

even black has white by its side.

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