Colors

When I look outside my head,
I see a world full of life.
Yet it looks grey and dead,
To me and my blunt knife.

It is not black and white,
Just pale, plain and posed,
Rustling, yet deathly quiet.
My eyes want to be closed.

They are tired of tending
To their master's memories
Etching them with unending
Enviable happy stories

My sense are becoming dull
My ears have ceased to still
My hands have begun to lull
But are alive enough to kill



Poetry by Dhruv
Read 742 times
Written on 2019-04-29 at 10:44

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Sturdy rhyme, controlled metre, a very readable poem!
2019-04-30