And her colour was blue

Many shades of it surrounding her as she went on her way,
From icier tones that she felt deep in her bones
To the midnight beauty that pressed in her head
And told her that monsters lived not in her mind
But with and around her, surly,  unkind
The chill of the blue it was deep and lasting
From life she was hiding, fasting
She’d grown used to this state,  the stage of the cold
Where life looked in with no hand to hold
Until one day she decided she deserved to look up
To allow herself to drink from the golden cup
Full of sweet syrup and honey
Dew and raindrops, tasted so funny
But she liked it and thought why should I keep forgetting me,
Who I am?
What is so wrong with the shades that I am?
The colours in others may be in me.
And she stopped that thought for it was scary you see.
Till one day a glorious myriad of colour
Showered her world.
She decided that she could set herself free from the prison
Have colour, light (maybe), and choices other than blue
If she had the courage to walk away from you



Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. I’m pleased you dropped by, please feel free to leave me a comment or if you’re kind enough to share that’s fine. ☺️

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