I used to have many colored days
a spectrum of yellow to green
joys and hopes and happiness
reflections of blossoms in spring.
But now my days are gray
with only flecks of colors frayed at the ends
brightest when I’m still at home
in the morning and once my day ends.
A palette smeared and blurred and frantic
from self-inflicted want for growth
but now I’m stressed and overwhelmed
and for hues of orange, I grope.