Blue is felt by everyone,
Small, tall, dark, light
Anyone breathing the air,
And it's a wonderful beauty of life,
This tasty little blue that dances through minds,
It helps us remember times not so blue,
And keeps open our eclectic emotions.
But for people like me the blue is different,
It's as dark as ink, and vapid as hell,
The blue consumes us and drags us to the bottom,
The bottom of a ghastly blue ocean.
Life for us is an ocean, forever blue,
A tranquil sadness soaking through,
to our very souls,
And like the ocean, we never stop turning,
Turning the cogs in our heads,
cogs of indigo decadence.
The blue is a misery so pure that it's almost nice,
For no one can take it away from us, try as they might,
And though it hurts more than being alive,
At least it's our own, sweet little self,
A self entirely blue.
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