Into a morass of black, grey, and white
Nary a color in hearing or sight
A deep dark mist that covers the light
Such a suspension can anyone kill?
Lift this monochromatic frill
For a soul is not meant to, in a vale, mill
But rather be a city on a hill
The first color to see is blood-red as the rose
Next an orange glow, then the yellow sun’s pose
Green trees, blue hopes, and indigo grows
And finally we’ll see the violet king’s clothes
God bless,
>P<
Joshua Fahey
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