The world is full of colors,

in places we haven't seen;

The things we don't bother,

lay in disguise,

undercover from our lustful eyes.

Body and mind; seperate but tied.

Where do our colors go when we all die?

We are all born with a palette;

which we are meant to fill.

Emotions running rampant,

or a peaceful night still.

Life is never granted, but take what you will.

Experiences are what we have painted.

The paints; are colors still.

For the world is full of color,

and I have a palette to fill.