Blue, Black, Red, or Green
Flowing down the abandoned streets,
Just a few colors flowing within a broad stream,
Colors in a desolate society of black and white aching from lack of variety,
Guilt, I think is what causes growth to pause,
Like looking into the eyes of a man who just saw you take his keys,
Yet you stick with "Naw it wasn't me!",
Until he comes down on your head with a thing unseen, but you know it's big because you felt it crack into your skull leaving you lying there numb...
But no longer numb to those colors that you just ignored,
As they have been slapped write over that tablet in your mind giving you no choice but to recite it
As the blood of you and another conform to each other within you,
Causing a rougher transition into reality than ever intended
See my pen bleeds,
But her screams are unheard,
Her inanimation inhibits her dramatization as the blood flows...
And I'm so tired of watching her suffer,
That's why I choose to use my voice to express her pain
So I can knock you upside your head in an effort to force you into my harsh reality
And providing the opportunity for another to join me in the stand against the stance of blind hypocrisy
Why see blood and ignore its presence?
Why bleed and expect everyone's acceptance?
Because even though they may see your tears or hear about the things you fear...
Does that mean they care?
The colors that flow out of the metal skins never settle down as they pour down the streets towards the doom of the next sewer...
Out of the sight of the one's who could have helped...
See, I rock a pen of many colors,
And I walk to my elders and tell them about my visions,
Yet they just look at me and glare...
Kind of like 1954, when segregation of minds and feelings were torn down so vicious,
Yet the one's of an older understanding and maturity could not make this vision theirs,
And they yelled, kicked, screamed like babies in a toy store because "No" reverberates in there ears
Because if you look in the B.C. and come back to A.D. you'll see that progress...?
Well, it all depends on your reality,
I still feel the affects of a segregation that causes my color to be ignored even though I can't take it off whether by disease or surgery
Because inside of me are the colors of many things viciously attacking each other waiting for someone to bring peace to the disorderly
So I bring up the question/issue that I suffer with constantly,
Because now you know the next step is you have to form a reaction,
So, did you hear the cry from the pen?
Or is it you struggling to the fight the voices that cause you to question your sanity?