Two kinds of people
Two different lives
Two different ways
Two places on knives

One stays near the handle
Far from the blade
Away from the danger
But starting to fade

The handle grows shabby
The more it is used
Its wood rots away
From the blade where it's fused

Those in this region
While safe from harm
Are in greater danger
Than just being torn

On the inside they’re cold
And without sight
Unaware of the colors
Just black and white

Shades of grey
Are all they can see
Shades of grey
Are all they can be

So mindless and stupid
Just milling about
Listening to authority
Without any doubt

Just listening blindly
To what they are told
Accomplishing nothing
As they grow old

They’re nothing but robots
Not programmed to think
Not able to realize
The ones on the brink

The other variety
Often just shunned
See the world in color
So bright but not stunned

While others falter
They stand up tall
They see vibrant shades
Surrounding us all

Red for the bloodshed
Blue for the tears
Black for the death
Ruling for years

Yellow for sickness
Brown for decay
Green for the grass
Under which we will lay

The colors hold truth
Truth that can hurt
Make us fall down
To the cruel dirt

The blade’s edge is thin
So easy to fall
To the deep blackness
To nothing at all

This is the reason
That color is feared
Away from the edge
So many are steered

They block it all out
The visions they saw
Closing their minds
This is their flaw

They cannot remember
All the good color makes
They cannot tell
The real from the fakes

Red is for roses
For passion, For lust
Blue is for the sky
For calmness, For trust

Black is for nighttime
For mysteries unknown
For all shooting stars
Wished on as they’ve flown

Yellow is for sunshine
For laughter, for smiles
Brown is for chocolate
Enjoyment, desires

So many things
Are better in color
When seen close-minded
More than hues are duller

So ask yourself this
How do you see?
Do you see excuses?
Or do you see like me?