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I have colors, they only come out in the dark.
It's coming, I know it.
When the pain sends shooting from my chest,
the pressure building in the back of my head.
Only then, I feel it.
And my colors, blinding colors, they spring forth
spewing from my eyes, nose and mouth.
Forgive me, I seek not comfort, but myself.
If this is, in fact - that.
Last edited by Schizophrenic; 01-05-2016 at 10:17 PM.
And I hope you have not a single still moment.
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