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“I remember when all of my dreams were in rainbow. Now, everything I do I have to Technicolor because it's all become so black and white... so subtle hues, no longer Prismacolor me and you. I sharpen those pencils, but they still come up dull. I shade and shade and shade, but it all comes up a shady review. I miss the rainbow when my dreams were caught all throughout the day; and not just late at night, when I couldn't sleep because everything was dark, and too steep to climb, and only in rhyme because I have not become THAT gray poet.” — Heather Angelika Dooley
I remember when all of my dreams were in rainbow.
Now, everything I do I have to Technicolor
because it's all become so black and white...
so subtle hues,
no longer Prismacolor me and you.
I sharpen those pencils,
but they still come up dull.
I shade and shade and shade,
but it all comes up a shady review.
I miss the rainbow
when my dreams were caught
all throughout the day;
and not just late at night,
when I couldn't sleep
because everything was dark,
and too steep to climb,
and only in rhyme because
I have not become THAT gray poet.