Are we not all colorful inside? You ask me.

I don’t know.

You act colorful, so maybe your right.

But are we not often black and white in our outside?

Is the black marker not the weapon of choice these days?

Maybe we are colorful inside but forgot to turn on the light.

Or we are just colorblind.

Maybe I am colorblind.

Maybe I only remember the colors, from when the world was still new to me.

A black line is certainly not as loud inside as all these colorful nuances that I remember.

But you asked about all of us, if the other is colorful inside.

I don’t know, I can’t look inside of you or the others.

Exsaturation  takes the sting out

I feel so light

and still I bend

I hang here in style

like I was drawn

by you

The branch I sit on still moves

my shadow is still there

~

I am looking for my next meal

I am also it

~

I am small and nervous

but at least I can fly