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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