TheColorTheySeeTheColor I Know

They call Red the colour of love, of passion, A kiss stolen beneath city lights, A heartbeat racing, alive with fire. But I call it the ink of self-harm, The silent confessions carved into skin, Where razors write what lips cannot. The awareness is wrapped in red- Scars that speak softly, A quiet ache hidden beneath long sleeves. They call Orange the warmth of a sunset, The thrill of autumn winds, change in the air. But I call it the restless storm of ADHD, A mind that leaps before the body follows, A song playing at double speed. The awareness flickers in orange- Fingers tapping, thoughts colliding, A wild energy that never quite finds its peace They call Yellow the color of joy, Sunlight spilling like honey, Laughter rising with the wind, A warmth that never fades. But I call it the glow of bipolar disorder, A golden chariot soaring too high, A sunrise that blinds before the storm. And when the light dims, it becomes the shade Of suicide prevention awareness- A flickering candle in an empty room, The silent weight of a name almost forgotten, The color of hands reaching before the fall.