At First,
I felt nothing,
Just an overwhelming numbness that seemed to paralyze me,
From the inside out.
But then,
As I lay in bed later that night,
Being swallowed by my quilt,
A swell of emotion hit me,
Nearly drowning me in its force,
Dragging me under in the riptide.
Anger,
Sorrow,
Grief,
These are the colors of my life.
Anger came first.
It was an irrational anger,
Anger at Grandpa Fletcher for leaving this world so soon,
Even though he must have been at least 90 years old.
Anger at the doctors for not trying harder to save him,
Even though I know they must have done all they could.
Next came sorrow,
Deep inside,
Breaking my heart nearly in two.
The sorrow was so deep rooted into my body,
I was sure that some mad scientist had planted it within,
And that I would never be rid of it.
Lastly,
Was the grief,
So deep I could feel it in my bones,
Shaking me to the core,
Leaving me lifeless and exhausted.
Anger,
Sorrow,
Grief,
These are the colors of my life.
They paint my world crimson,
And blue,
And often times,
A deep, soul wrenching purple.