You tried, pulling me out,
Of a web of my own making;
My mind that lured me,
Held me against my own will;
Seduced, the rest of me,
Made me bathe in my own blues,
Stained my skin, the blue of a water nymph;
And maybe a darker shade ,
I for one, was drunk in my own world,
My own hurt.
I was blissful, content and starving,
For the yellow of sunshine;
Fell upon me, never made past my skin.
So, I scratched it and the flesh within seemed bluer still,
I screamed when I saw I'd begun bleeding blue.
I called for help,
A longed sleeved shirt, the reply for my whelps.
I smeared the shirt with an artist's palette,
Stolen, in desperation;
And wore it out untill it sank into me.