Verdigris

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A life of downs,
Ups created only by her will.
Her life a series of toils,
Her skin the color of emeralds,
Yet treated like the color of ogres.
Her life was consumed by the color green,
Yet her death was driven by the color blue and red.
Her one drive in life was happiness,
Only to be rejected,
Disowned,
Thrown into the wind.
She took to the air,
A swirling light of green and black,
A small fleck against the vast blue sky.
All forces against her,
She rose higher.
She defied gravity,
Only to grasp love and have it slip,
Like water through a strainer.
She was never that girl,
The girl who was adorned,
Loved,
Popular.
She was green with envy,
But not jealously.
She had red lips like blood,
But never spilt innocent blood.
She fought for the powerless,
Yet felt powerless.
She gave wings to creatures,
Showing them the world in a new view,
But she could never peer in the window,
The window of the world.
Her clothes black like the night,
Yet all she had was stolen at night,
Which forged her drive,
Lit the fire in her eyes.
She lost so much,
Gained so little,
Only wanting ruby shoes in the end.
Within her grasp,
Her life spilled,
Vaporized by the blue,
Patronized by the red,
Mocked by the black,
Pitied by the green.
Only to be called wicked,
For wanting happiness,
She was a flame for hope,
Snuffed out by fate,
Only to be remembered for her verdigris.

Steven Krauss-Akins ©2015

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