3 Colors

Red.... Yellow.... Black... three colors I consider danger, agony, and denial. Huh, that's funny, actually. Isn't most people like them 3 colors these days? People seem that way. The dark stares that look upon the grim faces people show; the intimidation of one or another. The crowds of dismay, the tense that builds up in the body of the intimidated.

Thinking about it- what caused this sorrow to lurk deep down in the human body? Does the real world have an impact on the faces of the person who I look at? All I can see is the miserable, dark, face. The words that come out the body, out of the mouth, hit me like a hurricane and knock me down, and kills my conscience during the process of the odour of the language hitting my eardrum. The vibration rattles like the tail of a rattlesnake, so rapid, yet, so devious.

And, do these odours steam around my head? Do I transform to the evil of the language spoken? It's questionable.

The other side to those grim, dark faces don't show to the human eye. Which is weird. I want to really see those emotions tear out of that hormone that swings in the body, oh so I wish. But, the looks devour me out of the way of seeing so much, and see so little.

It turns. They all give the dark stare lurking in their bodies at me. The emotions that rush through the body, creating so much sickness. The weak, damp feeling I know I did something wrong. And it doesn't look clear enough to see that. All I see is the guilt rushing through the stomach, and then the final blow hits me, as the worst of my conscience spills.

"Repeat what I said!", as I hear those words. The guilt and the stress, that hit my stomach was gone. The mind clears from the cold, dead stares. I forget what I heard as I was intimidated by the looks from one to another.

"Well?"

The guilt that grew and cleared, builds up again. Much faster. It feels like you know you missed out on something, that was essential, and now being dumbstruck by the voice. There is no answer from the lips of one's mouth. The cold, dead stares reflect on me again, and I start to sweat. The heat I feel, the tightness of the throat, the fear that grows in the brain. All hit me at once. There is no escape from the demon that flows inside me, and I try to speak.

"Uh.... u... uhhhh..... I...", I stutter. I feel too tight to speak, and those tears that swell up in the naked eye, and I make a run for it. Those cold, dead stares, the words that flowed through my mind, started to leave my brain. I slow down, and come to a dead stop. Those swelled up tears, ready to break free, slowly dropped from my eyes. I fall to my knees, and bury my face in my steaming hot palms. Then, the mind goes haywire. I wonder what I have done, why those dark, dead stares gazed upon me. I get up, and walk out the gate, still tight from the stares that attacked my conscience.

I get home, still intimidated and freaked out. I lay on my bed, slowly put my hands on my forehead, and release the deep down emotion. That tightness loosened, the sore eyes feel clear and no longer sore, the guilt clears.

I guess.... the grim, dark faces actually are told by the intimidation of how one stare flowed to another.

Leaves my one question hanging....

Is this world like a spreading virus of darkness?

Written by WildViper009