Tinged
by Richard Charles
Perception
lacking vibrance,
drab interpretation of
art and beauty,
perhaps imposing on neon
shades that shatter the
smile, as if a fragile sheet
of glass.
This tinged conception,
although dull to some,
is the shade I choose
to revel in, elegant,
as truth lies unattainable
in lime green showers,
or golden sun beams.
In the distance,
I hear a faint whisper of failure,
a voice tainted with the
pitch of envy,
as success reigns in lurid
fog, dull to the eyes,
yet mysteriously intriguing
like pleasurable sin.
I have little interest
in being interesting,
nor do I concern myself
with how or why my tinge
is not as luminous.
Opinion is always unique,
and despite the shade that
may influence,
is always remarkable.
|