Purple.
Added 2022-01-31 09:19:29 +0000 UTC
For silken robes and jewels it was meant,
or so my young, hopeful teacher once felt.
For royalty and grand stature it was decreed,
that hues of purple would be freed.
A natural choice, it seemed for flowers,
and for witches with secret powers.
It sparkled in little vials of potent potions,
and as the sun set over vast oceans,
For scented candles and unnatural hair,
and the little trinkets they sell at fairs,
it was a hopeful shade of magic and glory,
but I hadn't been told the complete story.
No one said in darkness monsters become men,
and paint over you with an unforgiving pen.
Shades of purple can also adorn skin and hearts,
when fists are used like directionless darts.
No one told me it's the colour of lost rights,
and the inevitable end of mindless fights,
where I would be left crying by myself,
staring through the looking glass on my shelf.
No one mentioned that I could change colour,
even brighter, it would still make me feel duller,
when I saw the world through my silent pain,
and tried to rub away that deep violet stain.
No witches, no potions, no vials and no magic,
no enchanted land with a lock I could pick,
instead an amaranthine sea of tragedy and fear,
where my screams were all I could ever hear.
I didn't think my mind nor soul could be painted,
in a the garb of a periwinkle fairy so tainted,
Under long sleeves and powdered skin I hide,
the secret crime of another by which I am tied.
In lilac shoes fit for nobility, I run and run,
but my bejeweled skin shines like the sun,
there is no place to go but the amethyst dome,
where a cold demon calls my bed his home.
There's no witchcraft past this unmanned fence,
only human hearts of lavender that make no sense.
only an unrelenting quagmire much too dense,
because purple is the colour of violence.
