Shaping the Crazy

Colours of My Tears

The colours run, they blend and blur,  
Soft hues of sadness swirl and stir.  
Each tear a brushstroke on my skin,  
A portrait of the ache within.  

I wear my sorrow like a veil,  
A palette where the hues are frail.  
Pinks of hope and blues of fear,  
Mix with amber, dark and clear.  

Yet in the streaks that fall and drip,  
A quiet strength begins to grip.  
For though my face is painted so,  
The beauty lies in what I grow. 
 
From every tear, a colour’s born,  
A story told, a heart reborn.  
The sadness fades, the palette clears,  
And in the light, I face my fears.  

For from this canvas, bruised and torn,  
A masterpiece of strength is worn.  
I rise again, with colours bright,  
Transformed by tears into the light.  
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