To find what is different,
Should be simple and swift,
But what I see through this casement,
Is a world that is thrift.
At what moment in time,
Did we decide it was wrong,
To have a creative mind,
Or one that was headstrong.
As I look to the world,
With a fully open mind,
There is something uncurled,
And clearly undefined.
This thing of which I speak,
Is something that cannot be described,
But is instead what we seek,
And is what we’ve been deprived.
For in a world that is grey,
Our hearts seem to holler,
And with agony they say,
We need a world with color.