True Colors

Everyday I come home,
I look at myself
and see nothing but a cursed color.

When I seek kindness and compassion
from my own,
I get the boot
and the bruises pierce like daggers.

When I look at them,
I see the shadow of the devil
even though angels also lurk around.

I smell their hate
and their insensitive sight
even for those almost like themselves.

If I could choose,
I would be of the light
that everybody accepts
and calls to their need and liking.

I would never again be forced
to wear the mask of mystery
and be free of all the torment
and the red rain that has dripped from my body
for so long.

I would use my light
to ensure no one ever has
the death I’ve experienced
from the life taken from me
by the darkest of demons.

I would care for others
and take their wounds
so they will live on forever.