You want the shade of black
upon words that threaten
to burst with color,
bright, upon eye that see.

You cannot have it thus. Not me.
I, with colors rainbowed many
will use a palette filled.
To paint of life, stilled.
Captured on page, words will
rage. Canvas in array,
in color I display.

You'll never understand, for you
have not my hands, my mind
or thoughts. Don't feign
distraught. My world
will not be shadowed.

WhiteRose