Black is my pain.
My pain that is all in vain.
My pain of which I gain more of every day.
Black is my anxiety.
My anxiety that rains from the clouds of despair.
My anxiety that is far beyond repair.
My anxiety that is an everlasting flare.
A fair of pain and misery.
Agony and shrilling yells of pain.
It is like a chain that weighs me down.
I am trapped in my own mind.
And a single stain of black.
Trickles down my chin.
No matter how hard I strain.
I cannot escape this pain.
Oh..Black..you run through my veins...
YOU ARE READING
those sweet colors
PoetryColors are nice. They can be happy,upbeat and shining. They can be sad,depressing and dark. Colors are unique. I like to write about colors. ---- Free Verse ----
