i, a child, shadowed among nature’s woes.
with my eyes peering on hints of greys,
i was in disgrace with the world too dreary.
and feelings mismatch the colour theory.
paints, all too familiar, looked the same.
my landscape pictures a mad atmosphere,
but i’m only sane, no luck to become an artist
when melancholia is splattered in canvases.
but i knew chameleons flash in vibrant hues,
and i longed to keep one, bigger than my shoe.
if i’m camouflaged to the greys of hollowness,
i need a chameleon cloaked to the colourfulness.