Paradigms

Seeing through rose coloured glasses,

Where the grass is always greener,

Seemingly better,

A dispersion of truths across my eyes,

Just on the other side of the

Glasses,

When the colour goes, devoid I am of it,

I will be stripped back,

Naked.

Able to see everything.

Able to feel the art.

The chaos. The imperfection I skimmed over before,

When everything seemed a certain way,

Seemingly perfect.

Now devoid of colour,

I feel the greyness, 

The darkness,

As it consumes.