What Lies Inside?

What lies inside?

Those dark eyes of yours are windows to the soul, to the maze inside.

At first glance,  I see walls, walls of white and black and solidarity. Straight corridors meet at the perpendicular. Organised and solid. A lie. 

I get deeper and the corridors and rooms change to rooms of melancholy blue, blue like the depths of the sea. Splotches of the unified white invade parts of this honest and bare blue as if the artist of this realm, of this mind, did not want these blues to be revealed. 

Blue collides with disarray. Dark, nasty green merges with fickle pale green, all to make an image of envy. Thin and vile strokes scowl and stare.  

Red, so much red. Waves and dabs of scarlet, blood and brick bathe the walls. a  fit of fury as a consequence of the vile green rooms. But should the painter be mad? As ugly as the forest green is, it is honest and human. Much like the midnight blue who's sorrows are not easily shown but easily gained. They spent so much time painting the standard white that they forgot the true, human colours. 

I reach the centre of this twisted maze. Once I passed the walls of white, the waves of blue, the stare of green and the fury of red I reach the focal point. Yellow dances with rose and the air does smell of a summer breeze. The colours dance together, bolden each other and entangle each other. For the house would not be complete if the colours were hidden and obscured. They are true. They are human.

Author's Note

This is my first piece, I'm open to all criticism and compliments