In My Mind's Eye

Colorblind

The blood that covers my hands is black.

The knife at my side is white.

Who would have known that a man so small, 

Would deign to put up such a fight?

The way that he struggled and kicked and screamed.

Those insults he spouted so red,

Funny, how he resorted to such conduct,

Only to end up dead.

His face, eyes open, a storm of blue.

Sunken cheeks swathed in gray.

He had to have known he wasn't her equal,

So why didn't just he go away?

The gash trickling down his forehead is red,

But all I see is black entwined,

With muddled shades of gray and white,

Steeped in a film noir colorblind.

But gray I wouldn't trade for sepia or cyan,

For watching him whither in front of me,

Seeing his life flash through his eyes,

His soul into hell breaking free,

Was something I would pay to see.

And yes, you could say that I am heartless,

To color yourself a fool,

But remember, that even in the heat of battle,

I did not lose my cool.