My true color

This girl was insecure her color was gloom and she couldn’t bloom

With no sense of being she felt nothing but doom

It took her middle age to even like herself she thought she didn’t matter

Her voice in her head listened to all the negative chatter

Then she found poetry as a tool , a way to let pain out

It helped her to start to heal without a doubt

Creating unique personalized gifts for select few

Caring for herself finally grew