Favorite Colors Can Change
Neon colors were loud.
They attracted the eye and demanded to be seen.
I was quiet.
I kept in a corner any color that tried to escape me.
I did not deserve to be looked at.
Pastel colors were soothing.
They took the harshness out of the world’s shades.
I was shaking.
I buried inside me any chance at peace.
I did not deserve to feel at ease.
I was grey.
Like the static of a TV screen you see before changing the channel
The tone of my skin becoming more stone than peach,
longing for a pigment of prosperity.
But stone turns to dust,
And paint dries up.
I have a new favorite color
It radiates with purpose.
Booms with laughter.
Crosses its arms and screams
I find solace in mango daisies and tangerine roses,
Because just like them,
I deserve to be looked at.
I’m here to do something.
Kelly Stone, 18′ || Art Staff