I Am...

I am forgotten

I am the shadow on the wall,

The gentle wind,

And insignificant thing no one pays attention too

I live in a world where I am unnoticed,

Where your either born on the top or not

I am a featherless bird in a world of peacocks

I am unquote worthy

And below the others

But what I am not is a push over

I am a musician

I am a writer

I am the one who demands attention

I am the one who deserves respect

I am the one who will earn what I deserve

I am what I have always been

I am a hidden star

A star that will one day outshine the rest

And will be seen and never overlooked again

Where colour is Born

The walls are white, like a sterile, cold hospital. White and plain. An everyday occurrence. But if you look deep beyond the plain white walls of everyday, the colours appear.

Within the white walls of these hallowed halls, lies the never ending potential for rainbows, flowers, vivid sunsets, and an array of auroras. Born from right is the softest blues, the warmest oranges, and the brightest yellows. From earthy browns and greens to the obnoxious, bright neons, white is beginning of them all.

Colours live in white. For without each other, there couldn't be images. Images that capture the human mind in such a vivid, an entrancing way.

White walls, like a blank and bare canvas, hold so many endless possibilities.