This world

As a child this worlds colours amazed me, the burnt autumn oranges, the scorching golden sun on summer accompanied with the vibrant green grass and beautiful flowers that cause me to sneeze with hay fever. My favourite pallet of the world has to be Christmas, it’s dark lit with shimmering snow. Festive decorations add to the magical warmth feeling to help you defrost in the bitter winter.

When I was just a child everything seemed like this huge adventure into this majestic world, full of vibrance just waiting to be found. Magical creatures danced around the un-blossomed rose buds, waiting for the petals to unfold, inviting the beautiful creatures to feed off its sweet nectar. I love to watch as they collect the golden powder that is pollen, sprinkling it over the world trying to make it a beautiful place. I used to praise those little creatures but now I see they are just foolish. Everything they do to make the world beautiful is ruined my mankind’s efforts to push the earth to its limits.

I was saddened growing up as I slowly watched the colour disappear. This land I once thought so magical was becoming more grey by the day. I realise how naive I was in my youth, but now I see the dangers, the pain. The faster I grew the more intense the world got. I could see the fear in people, war danced in their eyes. It’s easy to be so ignorant to the worlds destruction when you are caught up in your magical imagination, finding adventure at every corner. Now I can’t even turn a corner without seeing the ugliness of humanity, streets littered with pain.

I grew up thinking people living on the streets had an amazing life being adventurous, I was jealous of them being able to watch the stars, taking on dark quests to fight off the shadows. I thought they were brave warriors, but now I know the pain they go thought, the loneliness. They sit there day in day out receiving nothing but ignorance and disgust. All they want is some compassion from this ugly world that has chewed them up and spat them out.

I couldn’t believe that the would was so black and white, no magic not anywhere. Just danger, ugliness, pain. I don’t know how people live in this colourless world, just walking this cold, concrete world. we just let it get into this colourless mess, we don’t fight or argue and wats the point the powerful will just erase us like we are a mistake. How do we do it? How do we keep going? How do we find excitement and colour in this world of disappointment?

Even my dreams have become a place of fear the only colour I ever see is the ruby dangers of this world. I no longer have dreams, goals, or wishes. I no longer see the point in wishing for the impossible. I used to believe this place was magical, but we are limited by our imagination and governmental boundaries. Eighty percent of the ocean remains unexplored or, so we are told. Ninety-four percent of the universe has yet to be explored and discovered or, so we have been told. How much do the powerful keep from us? You read stories about scientists, journalists, anyone who fights the power just vanishing. What did they discover? Did they discover anything or just get too close? What were they looking for exactly? Why did they vanish if there was nothing to find?

How much of what you see do you trust? How much of what you are told do you believe? Maybe there is still colour in the world, it’s just being hidden from us. They wouldn’t be powerful if they allowed us to have dreams and hopes.