So here I go again trying my hand at another writer prompt and my own Prompt me I dare you posts. I hope everyone enjoys, as I muster the words to edify literature of the name of the Twenty-first century. 🙂
…Pain
People try to Paint a reflection of Pain.
The color doesn’t exist.
Trying to compare blue to feelings, is beyond its untruth.
No one can come near the color of pain.
We know not of his hue.
His pigment can’t come through.
We have not enough light receptors within our eyes.
Not able to perceive its richness.
Pain is unreflective.
Hence his lack of hue.
Pain, you want me to write about the color of pain?
Pain is the color of our faces when relatives don’t return from war.
It’s also the indescribable accumulation bubbling deed in her chest when they tell her it was her fault. And is she sure she did not consent to his conquest?
Tell the doctor you can not number it either.
Scream out to society it’s not something that’s from without this things starts from within.
This silhouette of pain shrouds every one of us from fetus to the grave.
Gauging out our eyes and refusing light to come in.
Pain ain’t got no number so stop asking from 1-10.
Pain is a shadow that doesn’t know its place, He’s rude, knows no manners, and lets not his host retain a somber face.
Hey, watch out, he can make you bitter, unreasonable, indecisive, petty, and unattractive.
Guess what? None of those are colors.
No color wants to color his face.
Pain has not a color, hue, pigment, tint, and or fragment of a reflection for our eyes to pierce him in his face.
Thank God we know not of his hue because if we did He may look like you.
Like you, Me, Her, and Him. Pain might resemble us all.
Again, Thank God Pain ain’t got a hue.
Happiness
Neither bitter nor sweet.
Beautifully in between.
My taste buds have yet to arrive.
Deceitful, or better known as divine.
My taste buds have yet to arrive.
Potent and always compelling.
Dazzled, by its wonderful scent.
I was told about learning and knowing of this taste.
Yet happiness is not found in this place.
My taste buds have yet to arrive.
Come forth, I reach for this gentle taste.
Heavenly, no it’s eternal.
Relentless in its ways
I have yet to savor this taste.
Big Contradiction 