Poets logo

True Colours

by Banter Shack about a year ago in sad poetry
Report Story

A Story of Sorts

My drinking was always heavy,

I made those around me suffer,

Because I was yellow bellied,

These were my true colours.

Mates abused crack and booze,

I used one but not the other,

Was often beaten black and blue,

These were my true colours.

Any opportunity to drink piss,

Pierced the heart of my mother,

All too familiar with pink slips,

These were my true colours.

Folk said I was wrong in the head,

I screwed whores without a rubber,

Bank balance loitered in the red,

These were my true colours.

I propose a toast to a man I knew,

Until the end of a British summer,

He overdosed out of the blue,

Stupors were his true colours.

Death dominates any immunity,

A truth I'd recently discovered,

Behold this golden opportunity,

To get a hold of my true colours.

Sobriety means I now dread fate,

And I rate myself as a sucker,

Society is wrapped in red tape,

That emphasises my true colours.

Stomach often wants to scream,

It just needs more time to buffer,

Forget a life on the silver screen,

I just want some new true colours.

What a volatile and violent ride,

Filled with shakes and shudders,

Is grass greener on the other side,

With these unfamiliar true colours?

I know that when the pain goes,

My heart will indeed grow tougher,

Maybe I’ll try chasing rainbows,

Sky’s the limit for true colours.

sad poetry

About the author

Banter Shack

Music with a pinch of salt.


Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights


There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2022 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.