I am made of color:
It comes out of my head,
I sing a song of texture,
Attached to all my threads. So many different colors,
Are in our world to see.
But just one combination,
Is illustrating me. I vary saturation,
And then adjust the tone,
There’s color to my being with you,
Or hues of being alone. Is it art, or artifice?
I ask myself each day.
But I know I am my truest self
When I come out to play.