White

 

Whitewashed walls and crisp, white uniforms

White-painted metal framing messy white bed sheets

A flat, white windowsill and a dull white sky

White upon your skin

Yes, you’ve settled in.

Levers and instructions, printed and clear,

Plain, functional, a world on mute

 

And it’s here, against this empty canvas, that I feel my Picasso exploding

If it weren’t for self-control, my emotions could spatter this whole room

With colours so intense they would never be cleaned off

These sensations so fervent,

A fountain of joy and tragedy and relief and sorrow

Such colours, such life,

Bursting out in this barren place.

Reviews

[DANGER]

Your poem goes well with music I'm playing. It is definitely rhythmic. The words make it that way, too. You ended with a bang, to me: "Bursting out in this barren place." I relate to it.
"White upon your skin
Yes, you've settled in."
This sounds like you've officially started your groove with words. I settled in with the poem at that moment.