Colour

Walk down your path with colour.

As the eyes above look with distaste.

A colourless road filled with hateful craze

As they gaze upon you with labels of venemous waste.

My time as a child, I always wondered.

What is it like to be colourless?

To be free from the chains of the seeking eye.

To not shiver and break apart to woefully cry.

A burning glaze fixed on the back of a coward.

Who vowed to not slay the monster but to avert himself from its glare

To live in hiding.

"a coward nonetheless. Yet to break one's chains causes more pain to one's legs than to leave it be."

"Or is that true?... "

The man had found his reason.

He would imitate the glorified colourless.

Looking through his glass-like eyes, protruding with hostility

As he painted across the world with different colours to avoid fragility.

To mix with colour paints a beautiful picture.

But to mix with something colourless, inevitably draws conflicted creatures.