Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra
Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra

Pride

Pride

2 mins 1.0K 2 mins 1.0K

Rainbow

Do you hear it?

The thunderstorm,

Of the sky that has held tears for a littletoo long

Do you see it?

What it has brought

Trying to cover up its grey clouds

With the warmth of the sunlight

To thaw your cold heart


And then it appears in seven different

forms—


Red: for all the love and passion, held back

in anger in the form of blood trickling down their wrists


Orange: of stolen hues from red and yellow — as the rage awaits but only happiness they show


Yellow: for all the stolen sunshine leaving out the shadows you bring upon them


Green: of the nature you blame them to not fit into, of all the disgust you drape them in


Blue: of the sea and the sky where the horizon lies— separating them from the sky, drowning them in the sea when they wish to fly


Violet: of all the stolen hues of blue and red— keeping their calm despite the anger


Canvas

A white canvas given to all

With a palette of colours

But the paintbrush is yours

Paint it the way you want

In hues that would only form an artwork

That captures your happiness.

After all, every artwork doesn’t need the

ideal sun with crooked lines hiding behind a mountain.


Prism

Have you ever noticed

The way a single ray of light

Splits into 7 different colours


Seven but all from one

Look through the broken shards

Do you see where it comes from?

Do you see where we come from?

From one single ray of light.

For all of us may be different

But we only take birth from one colour

And in the colour of peace we shall die in.


So stop trying to live the colourblind life,

Let colours leak out of their bottles

Before they dry up.

And if we ever told artists to paint the way we wanted to,

Masterpieces would never turn out the way they did.

And if we never sought for rainbows, the sun

Would never shine through the rain.


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