I think in colours. And they console. Pat me on the back, promising me that they too, share what I feel. I cling on to the reassurance, blindly, desperately. But then there are moments when they too, desert me. Instances where they make me suffer, with their false hopes.
Yellow, green, blue, violet
All the colours of my rainbow;
Blue, black, silver, white
All the colours of my sky;
Maroon, pink, orange, red
All the colours of my heart;
But colourless my world.
This i wrote exactly a couple of years back. And its come back to haunt me. Is it this way, its supposed to be? Will everything, someday, disappoint, thus? What is this curse thats come upon me?
I submit to this; do I have a choice?
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