Colors of the Wind
It’s anger which isn’t seen but is felt, within the daylight streets and the silent nights. Where its grief runs the city and fires out shots of sadness.
Firing out like a silent whisper, gasping for a breath with nothing but disparity.
The sight of blurred lines that pass by with the strength that only comes from hatred.
Retracting each step with slight dust that follows along with all its might.
It stood there waiting for the right moment, the right opportunity.
It wasn’t a trigger that caused its rage, it’s just human nature. Walking out and following along. The papers it blew, which it never let go. Fleeting away until that second.
Where the light illuminates transparency and darkens the force, where it’s attention isn’t wanted but needed for pleasure.
The rays of gracefulness overpower the sights of adversity in the air.
As it passes by, swinging with the tempo of the earth. Oh in which it expresses it’s true emotions, oh colors of the wind.
The colors that desperately needs attention. Where it shead it’s grief and copes on lost.
Colors red, blue, and green are only revealed in it’s greatest days.
Oh, colors of the wind. Where is action act like a game of roulette gone wrong.
Oh, colors of the wind, yielding at every bondery, waiting to show its truest forms.
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