Perception lacking vibrance,
a drab interpretation of
art and beauty,
perhaps imposing on
neon shades that shatter
the smile, as if a fragile
sheet of glass.

This tinged conception,
although dull to some,
is the shade I choose
to revel in,
elegant, as truth lies
unattainable in lime
green showers,
or golden sun beams.

In the distance, I hear
a faint whisper of failure,
a voice tainted with the
pitch of envy,
as success reigns in lurid
fog, dull to the eyes,
yet mysteriously intriguing
like pleasurable sin.

I have little interest
in being interesting,
nor do I concern myself
with how or why my tinge
is not as luminous.
Opinion is always unique,
and despite the shade that
may influence,
is always remarkable.

2001 R. Charles
(All Rights Reserved)