A Choice of Colors
In the end, it did define you.
Not to others perhaps, but it was your daily battle
and you are left feeling strange and worn without it,
wondering suddenly what colors to apply
to what is left.
About this poem
After over 15 years, a change in medication has me…. not depressed. It’s nice. But I haven’t quite figured out what to be without it.
PS: Yes, that is the same picture as my previous poem, without color. Somehow it seemed to fit.