Colors
-Phrantik

Colors.. drip and pour, then and now.
expressing feelings intently when the rain-bows.
a flood of emotion, from the heart and soul.
where one box of crayons can express the whole.
red in rage, kids break through the cage
and punish their parents so they act their age
a 50 year old man, with a crayon in his hand
leavin impressions of anger like feet in the sand
in a world that is doomed, all hope is consumed
an old man with crayons had his life just ruined
a red crayon held tight, throughout the long night
as it unleashed the blood of his life long fright
one color down, yet a few more to go
as emotions drips feeling like the rainbow
little boy blue, away.. he's secluded from you
tears rains from his eyes as he cant decide what to do
but right near his side, is his crayon that he hides
as he continues to write about why his eyes cry
scratching his color, til his crayon gets duller
he spells out why he is missing his mother
a drunken dad, age 50 with a crayon gone mad
has killed his wife, and made the world sad...
the story unfolds as the rainbow faints
a world of color is what my finger-paints
the man so near, the boy starts feeling fear
forgets his blues and grows quiet so you cant hear
he is so afraid, that his dad wont behave
and punishing him is the way he wont be saved
unless forever, which will come soon never
his fear bottles up to become so clever
in a cold sweat, his palms soaken wet
he reaches out and grabs the mans neck
holding it tight, throughout the long night
he drops the blue crayon he once used to write
from anger to the blues, to fearful thoughts
my story is unravelled like careless knots
the man holds on, being choked he's almost gone
he's strucken green thumbed like his front lawn
over come with a hate, for his own blooded mate
he's being killed by his son, like his wifes late fate
stricken with thirst, to be his son, he could burst
but when he's free on the road, he'll be in a hurst
his time runs dry, he is angry, sad, and scared to die
and as his eye waters upyou can see him cry
with not long to go, till the end of our show
he dies, stops crying, and makes a rainbow...
the doors of opportunity close their golden locks
as the boy put red, blue, yellow and green back in their box...

__________________