The stormy clouds,
The people you enshroud
To the color of a dull and blunt blade
You are the dusk,
The color of dust
You are the rocks on the bottom of a rough river,
Yet, people don't know you are unpolished silver
Why do you have to be so depressive?
Why can't you be more elated?
So I will ask you, why are you so hated?
And why can't you be more like the color blue?
Or better yet, yellow?
Instead of being so hollow.
You are dull and blunt,
Instead of the sharpness of red,
Is it because of what people said?
So why don't you be more upfront?
Yet you are much more than you seem,
As you are what separates the darkness of black
From the light of the white
As there will always be an inbetween,
And because of that, you are more important than you seem.