Hey Mom, My world is not so rosy colored anymore,
I no longer see the Hue of that unobtainable flower,
Blues mean nothing to me, for I have never wanted to fly nor be lost at sea.
and Green has been twisted to mean too many things.

I've become to logical, mom, to see black or white.
Black is an over abundance of another color,
and white is only a soul sucking light.

So see mom, without my rosy view,
my colors, my life has become askew.
Yellow is not my sunshine or my fruitful sign
no rays of muse can reach my eyes.

Oh Mom, how can it be, painting my reality seems blah and grey to me,
No colors coming to portray--
for my world was more beautiful behind my rosy haze.