Words and Perspectives

Your colour 

Envy was never your colour,
But you wore green so well

– Priscillamf (21.10.17)


Cold Jacket

You are the cold to my warm jacket
But that doesn’t makes sense
And neither does our love

– Priscillamf (16.10.17)
(It’s been a while. Something short and sweet, well short anyway)

Nothing new

These days I find it hard to sleep at night.
Nothing new, just a genuine restlessness,
(and a want for something more in life).
– Priscillamf (26.07.17)

a little less alive

Everyday I feel a little less human,
a little less alive,
and I wonder if that’s supposed to be normal,
if I’m supposed to feel like nothing worth living for

– Priscillamf (26.07.17)


I wonder if this is how I’ll die,
consumed by darkness after having consumed myself

– Priscillamf (27.03.17)
(I wanted to post something. A poem that began but never really got a chance to live, maybe one day it’ll find its ending)

How Sad

Such fragile minded youth,
who in their development mistake the world to revolve around them.
How sad it is that in all this confusion,
loneliness has equated to worthlessness,
not quite the same,
but a deep feeling nonetheless.

– Priscillamf (12.07.17)


Perfectly sane, you sought guidance.
Searched far and wide for something to hold onto,
something stable to lead the path for you.
How strange it is that depression sought you out instead.
– Priscillamf (27.06.17)


You said red was your favourite colour,
the colour of your tears.
I didn’t quite understand what you meant by that back then.
Red was the colour that saved you.
The colour of the life guards that pulled you out of the pool,
even though you didn’t ask for it.

Red was the pen that your teacher marked with.
Failure was your worst enemy, but red was still your favourite.
“It’s the colour of what’s inside me.”
That, I understood.
“That’s why I spill so much blood”
I’m still trying to understand this.

Red was the colour of your pain,
the colour that kept you sane,
and Red was the colour of your texts that failed to garner a response.
Red was the love you tell others you never felt,
the love you never received.
And red was the name you wanted to choose for yourself,
a colour to define your life.

Red was everything to you,
and I never understood that,
how your red was so negative,
nothing to be proud of,
and yet it meant so much to you.

– Priscillamf (28.06.17)
(I’m really enjoying these colour based poems. Thank you for reading)

The Wind

Sometimes I think I can still hear you call my name
Soft like the wind that brushes past my ear
And I wonder if I turn around you’d still be stood there
Arms open and smiling

– Priscillamf (02.07.17)

Blog at

Up ↑