How skewed our perception.
Consider,
We never see our own face,
Only our reflection,
Or a model made of ink.
Wonder,
The red of an ace,
Is to me like revolution,
But to you a passionate pink.
How skewed our perception.
Dream,
Many of little white horses,
Grazing in the beautiful pastures,
Without giving them proper care.
Imagine,
What heaven sees in us the roses,
The undying love in the creatures,
Or the innocents they snare.
How skewed our perception is,
How skewed indeed,
Must it be,
That you and me,
Will never look upon the same color or tree.