I've wanted to be every single color,
Of the rainbows sprawled out on the floor,
The ones I traced when I was little,
Emerging from our front door.
Beautiful and glowing,
In vivid colors I would bask,
I'd pretend to be the refractions,
An intrinsically easy task.
I've always felt that need to be,
A Bright and Lightened,
Version of me,
And it's always come so easily,
But I've noticed more of lately,
The way my red is less rosy,
The way my bold slips to pastel,
And the sun in the window less cozy.
My childhood now is just memory,
and I am involuntarily,
Subjected to the normality,
That comes with the adult mentality,
That tells you to forget your morality,
And focus instead on sexuality,
Or better yet impending mortality,
So you lose your individuality.
Why is this world so intent on stripping my colors?
Why does each day turn me more black and white?
It haunts me at day, and eats me alive.
How was I once so unaltered and bright?
I'm less captivated by the rainbows,
When I drive past them on roads in the skies,
But when I see them I can't help but see her,
Pretending to be their proud colors,
a familiar glimmer set deep in her eyes.
