Pens and Pages

It’s funny how one’s life goes through highs and lows But we put some kohl and brush our brows. We someday realize we have no one but foes; So we sit back to paint the nails on our fingers and toes. For that might be the way one can drop that frown, To let not the world and its people pull you down, For I can see my life all blue- the hue I dread But I can change my hair to a better shade of red. I may wake up to find a messy work life But I can neatly braid my hair and pretend it’s all fine. I can find my job dull or whine that it’s not fair But I can take out a magic wand and curl my hair. I may cry all I can, as if I’m trapped in Medusa’s lair But tomorrow I’ll still show up with a confident flair.

My favorite color is the shade of your cheeks wet with drops from the salty sea of your eyes when you are guilty of making an innocent mistake like writing "writed" for "wrote" doubting if you can still write a good quote, calling yourself not a writer even when the pages of your diary are filled with a million notes, even when you die everyday but wake up to write for a theme called Hope.