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- Poetry With Audio
- Black
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The color of death,
The color of hate,
The site of something dead,
Or perhaps even rotted.
The color of evil,
The color of night,
A bruises deepest hue,
The color we relate to the end.
A color of negative,
A color with no joy,
It’s plain and not vibrant,
Nor doe it make most happy.
It’s the color we often see loners in,
The color that most think of about our sins,
Dirty lungs filled by years of smoke,
Outlaws wore it, and it’s the color of coffins.
For fans of black it’s easy and not hard on the eyes,
Teenagers in angst wear it and use it to let out their cries,
So if there’s a fan of black and not white,
Don’t worry your not alone there’s a lot of us out there wearing it at night.
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