Green like grass

Or green like leaves

You know those little things

That grow on the trees

Blue like the atmosphere

that's hung above our head

It's the last thing we'll see

Before we find ourself dead

Grey like the clouds

That dot that blue sky

Grey like the path

On which our little cars fly

White like the moon

White like a star

White like that blinding light

That shines from afar

Black like my hopes

And black like my dreams

Sometimes that black

Isn't just what it seems

Red like blood 

That flows from our veins

I've seen too many

Of those little red stains

Yellow like the sun

Only on a clear day

Yellow like a flower

Telling you it's okay

Every color holds meaning

In this domain over which someone reigns

A vast expanse, as I see this land

Like the Earth that we're bound to by chains

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Words can flow like a stream or rage like a river. These words tumble in the mind and beg to fall from the fingertips. They spill onto the page like the sun's color's bleeding into the sky.

-Flame-