color, music and light

and traditional,
just didn’t suit her.
She was different.
She brought the
light, music and color,
but no one could see or hear
past the tint of her skin,
and the clothes
she was dressed in.

The mob got angry
and demanded that her
ideas, manner
and appearance fit in.
But if every color
is the same, there’s no art,
only a blank canvas shown.
If every note is the same,
there’s no music, just a lone,
repetitive and empty tone.

She moved through life
as a wave of color, music and light,
and the others felt her pull.
Ignorant of why they felt so good,
they make her a scapegoat
with their poisoned cock and bull.

The feeble-minded
were jealous of her powers
of her beauty, and of her way.
So they labeled, mocked
and shunned her
because they feared her,
and just about everything else,

They resisted
with all their might,
while shielding their eyes
from the light.
Filtering colors, green with envy,
jealousy had worked them up
to an angered frenzy.
Music was bitterly distorted,
in the company of their discontent,
and they did all the samely wrongs
they can muster and give consent.

So she turned and walked-on
in beautiful color, music and light,
leaving those that lived in the ‘same’,
alone with their hate and fright,
never even knowing her name.

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