The color of me, truth be told, is simply pale.
First, a pale blank space, now covered in alabaster lines.
One slice at a time, sewn up quick.
To save a child truly sick.
Smooth and white on ivory skin, scars left to show what's been.
Invisible now and again, till the light catches those glimmers of skin.
A part of me, down to my soul.
Whispers and glances never cease to take their toll.
Yet I stand proud, tall, and whole.
Thanks to those lines that tethered my soul.
Keeping me earthbound and breathing life into a child.
Allowing for life to grow, free and wild
Into a being that could soar
I’m more than pale when my cheeks heat
A pink hue covers me
Whether from laughter or embarrassment
Or my nervous body acting like a freak
Dots of red speckle my cheeks.
Yet it fades away, leaving my color seemingly absent.
Yet truth be told, my color is pale.
Every color is needed to fill the world.
Pinks and blues and purples and greens
Blacks and browns and yellows and creams.
Each and every color tells a tale.
Color is pride and mine is simply vibrantly pale.
About the Creator
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Guardian
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. That’s the first thing that you need to understand. I’m not a bad person. I was supposed to be enjoying the day, it was beautiful out and the sun was just setting, filling the sky with hues of pink and gold so that the lake shimmered like I’d just walked into an enchanted land. I was so mesmerized by the way the gentle waves lapped at the shoreline that when my foot hit the book, I simply fell. Face first, ending with a mouthful of sand.
By Jasmin Nicole3 years ago in Futurism
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Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
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