where we write it

Blind Colors

.

.

Your eyes are blue,

These roses are red, right?

Gray  sky.  but not cloudy.

My tress are wrong. my roses are red, right?

I can’t sleep, this pillow is not for sleep.

My Summer is ugly.   it’s supposed to be shining.

Don’t you feel the rain?  Can’t you hear it thundering?

Maybe those drops of water, are only in me

… I want to rain, but I’m empty. 

be alone I can’t rain in front of  people.

It’s b*tchy and whiny.

Give me back my pillow,  and take the roses… they are still red.

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