Colours

Part of spoken poetry

If only you knew how much I was hiding

               All the happiness, all the pain, all the joy and rain

You blame other things for bringing me down, holding me down

But,

               This time it’s not the hoarding oppression of capitalism

               Nor the weight of politics and the world around us

No, this ones on you

Holding me down keeping me in black and white

               For a house with a different colour in every room you aren’t very accepting of mine

I’m hiding my colours even in this house

               The front room may be lilac, the dining room light blue

               I do see the bright blue of your room and the dark of mine

               But with you living in the house and suffocating me I only see grey

And then I moved out

               My uni room is cream but then they all are

               And I’m still much brighter and much more colourful, not that you can see

I barely noticed my colours showing even with the pride flag in my room

               Not til I had returned to those colourful rooms with no support of my own

I’m always going to want to show my colours

               I have three flags I could wave but you only accept the walls in your home

               Even if its not my own

Reviews

[Wórdsmíth]

Heartfelt poetry it is. The given lines're very thoughtful:

"This time it’s not the hoarding oppression of capitalism.. "

I like how you played with words here. Sense of love, and its cascaded-heartaches... that's all i kinda finding from around. Very deeply written, though.

[Quinn]

Thank you.
I enjoy writing spoken poetry because it gives me slightly more freedom.