They turn everything realistically pink,
purple, white, and yellow, little marshmallow peeps,
tiny rabbits that feed off the greens under the yellow sun.
She raised her head of red and the singing had begun.
The black notes flying up to the sky,
bluing toward a darker moment,
a moment where your green eyes move towards mine,
a delicate touch where red lines intertwine.
Bloodshot eyes after too much burgundy.
The sun a white blotch on white sky,
just as the botched girl turned red fast,
her childishness pierced through, the blue didn't last.
Instead a rose-tinted view of adulthood
tears into yellow petals.
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