Thirty Days

One month,

Thirty days out of 365 you feel seen

As if the sheen veil of inescapable truths is lifted

you feel heard and not just a sheep in the herd

Colors that express who you are was just a start, rather the cosmopolitanism of it all sees it as a pay check the market of the forbidden for one month until they prey us away to be hidden once more

A world so colorful would never last

So you wake up thirty one days later and the air is thick, you breathe in your inescapable truths

this time no one is asking you to take pride they rather you hide, oblige, and not spread like a disease

I didn’t realize it was that easy to suffocate in your inescapable truths

So I lie awake on that thirtieth day basking in a world that isn’t just grey and see the very essence of color drain as a new day reigns.