What colour am I?

I ask myself all the time, “What colour am I?”

And “What colour do I seem?”

Because within, the only colour that comes to me is a dark, deep blue.

Like when the night sky is almost there, but it isn’t black, it’s blue.

A dark, deep blue.

I think about it a lot, like how I’m stuck in that state,

Not a beautiful mystical black night sky who knows who he is,

Or a pink sunset, innocent and bright eyed,

not even a light blue sky, who’s awake and wise,

But a dark, deep blue, Stuck.

For that, I am unlike the sky,

the sky changes all the time,

But I seem so deeply frozen, In this void-like blue...

I wish I was pink, because the question “What colour do I seem?”

It’s Pink. The bright innocence, the cutesy goodnights of that beautiful sunset pink...

Like how I dress so colourful, and give everyone a beaming smile.

I tell everyone “it will be ok,” like pink does,

But the real blue inside of me doesn’t believe himself...

Am I faking a colour?

Everyone says I’m pink, my nickname as a child,

My favorite colour, The colour of my blanket I couldn’t sleep without,

And for a while, I was pink.

My childhood years were a bright and beaming pink,

And maybe, for that, I am like the sky,

Changing.

One day I may be the mystical black night sky colour,

Who’s learnt to love who I am,

And maybe someday, I’ll be the cheery orange of a sunrise,

Welcoming on, the new me, the wise blue sky.