Colors


When the girl who loved colors saw them no more
She became the purest type of poor
And the grays and the blacks wore her eyes sore
She was no longer who she was before

The color began to drain from her face
Her eyes than her blush, at an alarming pace
She was dying in a colorless race
In black her mind was soon encased

Her bones and her hair have become so brittle
Her once healthy body has become so little
And each time she coughs blood comes with her spittle
Her once bright drawing are not just black squiggles

She once saw the world like Van Gogh
But the vibrancy has been turned down low
With tapestries gone, defeat is the only thread she sews
Her last words are screaming no

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