How do the illiterate interpret poetry?

Words on a page, pushed together into words

Written to invoke emotion

To lift you up, to weigh you down

To make you think

Must be only scribbles.

If you were colorblind, what to you would be a masterpiece?

Swirling colors, vibrant hues

That millions stand in awe at

Appreciate its beauty

Gaze at its sights

Must be only a mirrored reflection of the dull-shaded world.

What is music to the deaf?

Symphonies of sounds

Rich voices harmonizing

Can turn your life upside down

Or your world over

Must be only silence.

To be normal is to be privileged

To read words carrying such weight

To view everything in full color

To hear sounds so incredible we feel like floating

To see the world through our lenses

But with our lenses come emotions

With our lenses comes joy, comes sorrow, comes fear, comes surprise

Comes envy.

For what is a book to a genius?

I see a plot twist, do you see a hole in the plot?

I laugh at a joke, do you know the first person to tell it?

I gasp when a character dies, do you know the death was faked?

And what is a rainbow to a tetrachromatic?

A foreign mix of purple and blue that you’re used to?

No, because that would be indigo, or to you, is it just another one of the basics?

Do you look down and scoff at the average because we think our clothes match?

Do those with synthesia all love music?

Do you scroll through the Top 100 to enjoy a light show?

Laugh at the auroras, for swirling colors invade your world on the daily?

Rose-tinted glasses often dissipate before us as we realize other lenses are magenta.