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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2127714
Auto-biographical about living in another culture.
The bright hues
pure whites, multi-toned, bursts of periwinkle,
take me back to another place -
I knew them by another name.

My other home, other face
near spheres of flowers
popping up in the deluge of rain.
They always bloomed
in June.

Magenta and blue
from a distance a unified purple,
but up close a conflict of
two separate colours

Huddled together
crying to the skies, we are one!
But up close, irreconcilable
magenta and blue, pushing and pulling,
the people.

It comes at a price,
an illusion in a changing world
where what brings us together
pulls us apart.

Fundamentally it strays
between the magenta and blue.
Up close you always find what you couldn't
far away, and you see nothing
but distance.

There is no harmony,
no agreement between hue
and layers of separation throughout.
Dimensions stratify yet deepen
what is there.

From a distance, purple,
up close incomprehensible.
I keep my head down,
I hide myself in the sea.
Bright magenta living in purple.
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