The colors of the sky
Fill your atmosphere to the brim
A pleasant surprise, a painful sin

Ink splotch-turned thoughts
Examine your psyche
Unsure, bemused, unable to break free

Everything so horribly typical
Distorts itself
Varnished in your brain, on a shelf

Why does it please
To the point of pain
To contemplate everything, without refrain

The weather breaks my thoughts
Like a wave
I’m a single pebble, I cannot be saved

Sitting alone, cracked open
Like a single pistachio, broken
I am more whole, full of feelings unspoken