They brought an old lady, the color of funeral ash
said she might be able to beat the demon out of me
before I do something rash.
Locking me in the dark cupboard
did not work
I made friends with the resident creepy-crawly
another deviant quirk.
On my fingertips, I smudge the dark grey dirt
and paint my face a big purple blue
Then with all other avenues shut
my father screams himself hoarse
dark color pours out of him-
pitch black, saffron venomous fumes.
They stick to me like a second skin
on top of the new purple bruise
‘’How can you love him?
How can you love a man?
The church forbids it,
So deviant! So deviant!’’
How could I tell him, love is a color?
And the world around me is God’s rotted earth,
I'm a demon, alright, but he in all his love
and beauty, is my light.
I am demon possessed, all right,
because I love him with all my heart
and all my might.
Fingertips brush down my spine
touch forbidden,
meant to keep me in line.
They trace over the color draped on my skin
I felt I would disintegrate,
a worldly sin.
My thoughts were only fragments
of what it was like to be a whole.
Dark green vines took over my heart
Grew big, black thorns
and then, finally, a dark red rose.
Fingers pinch my lips shut,
eyes cold like that of a rival
Stares into my honey brown eyes.
But they can’t snatch out of my mouth
the warbled words
and my skin draped in vivid color tells a story
screaming
to the lords standing right above me.
These are my true colors, and I will never go without,
Try to beat the devil and color out of me
I give a last shout.
About the Creator
Annabella
Writer, or so I think.
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