Indigo: The act of skipping around barefoot with your head in the clouds

Chained, Your heart is beating,
As dead as a door nail, you!
In vain circles you are tracing,
Answer me earnestly, isn’t it true?

It is your choice though,
To realise your ways,
Or maybe you’d like to
Sing off endless charades

You can keep your footsteps wary,
Heavy in you fancy shoes.
I am a drunken boundless fairy,
I indigo over the blues

Poetry in colurs #6
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