Black is not a color, it's a whisper of night.
A spectrum of shades too deep for the eye.
Waterfalls of darkness, iron and coal.
The warm embrace of sleep, rest for my soul.
I bear it like a sigil, I wear it like a scar.
It guides me down tunnels and shadows my heart.
Slipping along beside us, always in sight.
Black finds a way to follow, it cannot tell a lie.
It is not prejudiced, nor grudges can it hold.
Like ink it bleeds through paper, a story told in bold.
Without a sense of direction, or a place to be,
Black is a dear friend, black is just like me.
When all my dreams have faltered,
when friends have turned their backs.
I shake it off, I take a breath, and then I dress in black.