A Million Chameleons


I am
shades of a lie;
Art's adaptation
to perception.
The perfection
of multi-polarity.


And in this social climate
I feel like a million chameleons
to accomodate
for the prying stares
that seek out inadequacies
in my hues.


It makes the blood-red
turn tones of blue:
a vigor drained,
a softened resolve,
to the random.


no, needlessly
to avoid
looking you
dead in the eye;
I've tinted the windows
to my heart.
But perchance
the panes will blow open
one day...


And a rift of simplicity
will sweep me.
in the form of alleyway shade
where an orphan girl
holds my hand and I say,
"Thank you.
It doesn't feel dark
this way..."


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