The air in my diary blows mostly grey,
the thinking I think, in finding my way.

Sun-lit yellows and blue-sky blues,
rare are mentions, of these positive hues.

Blood red anger appears sometimes,
and scarlet shades, of love sublime.

The greens of life and the world I adore,
are there more often, as I like to explore.

…but when grey turns black, that’s the air I dread,
negative thoughts invading my head.

Still the mental anguish they put me through,
is better on paper, for me to view.

Colours blow through my diary,
and by writing I see,

…what is what, and who is me.