Black.

Black blouse

Black pants

Black skirt

Black dress

Black stockings

Black sneakers

Black flats

Swap them around for almost seven days a week

Constantly in black

Around the ever ticking clock that never stops

For work and survival

But it is starting to feel like an outfit for the walking dead

Day after day after day

Feeling blue

Staining my yellow skin

Seeping into my tired weak red heart

Removing me from my multicoloured paradise of the greens and the orange

And successfully reducing me into a full-stop or a shadow of my being

That ends all joy and laughs and invites only a

Silence as sombre as the colour itself.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s