Talking in Technicolor

I was raised to see in black and white

In emotion, circumstance...

In skin

Everything either one or the other

My young, creative mind cleaned of all the beauty that lie within

I never bothered to speak up about how I was filled with colors in a greyscale world

Just doing what I was told

An obedient little girl

Deep down, I knew there must be others

People like me

Somewhere out there

Bursting at the seams

People who could recognize the hues of my many moods and use me as a muse to inspire art that defied every black and white rule

Dear Artist, I plead,

Free me from these monotone views

Put my perception on a canvas

Let me speak my mind

And I will Talk in Technicolor

In every muted space we find

Free to speak of how my anger is fiery red with passion and burning all the same

Or how my saddest days are as blue as the ocean, and the grief, a darker shade...with twice the pain

Let us use green for the envy, though I’ve watered my grass and the work has begun

My happiness, yellow, paint it big and bright, like the sun

Release me from this prison

Help me color the world

May we exchange it for prisms

Reflecting light

And answering the prayers of that obedient little girl.