Personal Masterpiece

I thought about what color would correspond with my identity.

I tried to place my finger on what fit the theme of me,

But I couldn’t ever come to one distinctive conclusion.

No color seemed to be the ‘ONE’ that met all my criteria.

My thoughts wandered aimlessly,

I was going to give up on writing a poem about true colors,

It could just be left to another to discover.

But my mind drifted and rambled inside its bony walls,

Until I came to the realization,

That I wasn’t just one color at all.

My soul couldn’t be classified as a singular stereotype.

I’m strong and free-spirited,

Like the blue of the big open sea,

But sometimes i’m broken hearted,

And the shade turns into the stormy ocean waves.

I can be a romantic,

Like the pink of cherry blossoms,

Falling in Japan.

I’m bright and happy,

Like lemon slices on cool glasses

In the heat of summer,

And sometimes that color slowly shifts to orange

As I become adventurous and energetic,

Like the fiery hue of the setting sun

With the hidden promise in its light

Of a new journey to come.

At times I feel luxurious and magical,

Like the purple of the lavender fields in France,

And other times I’m powerful and ambitious,

Like the strike of lilac lighting.

I can be dramatic and passionate,

Like the glistening red of a party dress

Wore by the female protagonist.

I’m growing and healing,

Like the vibrant green that sprouts in spring.

I’m sincere and soft,

Like the white of a fallen feather

From its flying fowl,

But periodically I shift and become elegant and sophisticated,

Like the inky black of a fountain pen.

I’m not just one color,

I can’t be classified.

Can’t you see,

You’re the same as me.

Every color that we are,

Every shade,

Every tint,

And hue,

Makes up our own personal masterpiece!