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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
My descriptions, similies, and metaphors of the colour Black. FINALLY! I've come up with a satisfying ending. Its been a while. Teehee. Hope you like it!

Submitted: February 11, 2007

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Submitted: February 11, 2007



Like fighting your conscience and winning.

Like the leather gloves of a criminal.

Like evils hands reaching out to grasp you, and the hole in your heart when you lose someone dear to you.

Black is the fine hair on the leg of a spider, and the genuine kiss of a Vampire.

Like the net over the hair of the priceless Mona Lisa.

The ring around his left eye, mixed with blue and purple.

Black is the endless sky on a lonely night, and the smoke rising from a factory, in which children work day and night for a nickel.

Like bruises on a banana.

Like the feathers of a Black Bird.

Black is fear, revenge and hatred.

Like an emotional scab that will never heal.

Black is like a witch stroking you on the cheek, luring you to taste her posioness potion, and thick, curly hair that doesnt sit properly in a bun.

The led of a blunt pencil.

The words a poet uses to make the reader wrack their brains to understand.

A blind persons view of the world, and what we see when we fall asleep. Between drifting and dreaming, dreaming and awakening.

Black is an unseen colour of the rainbow.

Black is not a colour, but a shade of shadows and darkness.

Lies, deceit and secrets.

Black is anevocitive colour.

Black is my inspiration.

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