Brown, the windows to her world…
dark, deprived, blinking till dawn…
seeking no repose…
forever conscious…
Pink, the curtains to her words…
bright, bold, curled in disdain…
speaking no trifles…
perpetually percipient…
Red, the doors to her self…
Vivid, valiant, beating boldly…
pumping no poison…
ceaselessly warm…
But her mind a black veil
brooding, bleeding blue…
seeing no sense…
constantly anxious…
It did not take long…
For her blue being to crumble…
Collapsing in her own walls…
All those colors mixed now
Black, only black…
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