Hueful Fog
Life was uprooted from veins of an unsteady truth,
Her mere existence followed what was left of her youth.
Thus pallid lights swore to swirl beyond thee.
Nothing but confusion ceased her lovely glee.
Soon answers from her thoughts formed in her abyss;
She mistaken an advice as abuse, a greeting as beating, and love as to loathe

Crayons splattered her life with colors,
Crimson to paint a passion for living,
Emerald to remind her she's reliving;
Sapphire to fulfill a cost of forgiving.

Though this palette of remarkable wishful divine wings were there,
Nothing stopped her from building her own artifact of despair:
She bled color after color; it regurgitated and was unaligned.
No pattern was designated to enchant a mind, the pattern was blind.

What she forgot was the base.
There were too many shades.
There was little white.
She conjured a color of her blight.