Many

 What color am I, you ask.

What a silly suggestion;

that anyone's soul could be expressed so simply.

What color you ask?

Perhaps I will try.

The colors of a stormy sea;

the soul in turmoil.

The blinding white of the saint

with the yellow rays of pride,

or the all-consuming ebony of the sinner,

for when my thoughts turn against me

and self-hatred takes hold.

These are just a few.

If you disagree with my paradox,

you should not have asked,

what color.

Author's Note

Not exactly the original. Recreated from memory. Not that anybody here will notice; I'm just saying.

Reviews

[Noël Dior]

ah yes, I never restricted it to one color. so yes, this was a very good poem. i liked how you formatted it, with the repeating question. very nice! thank you for entering my contest.

[The Elder Pine]

I like this piece very much.
We are many colors, not just one flat color.
It is the shades of the soul that matter most I think.