The Color Pink and Me


  1. I can’t express how much I abhor the color pink.
  2.  
  3. On my bed I have a lumpy pink pillow,
  4. On my desk I have a flexible pink lamp.
  5. Add to that a pretty pink suitcase that simple bellows –
  6. “I belong to a girl and that’s simply a fact!”
  7.  
  8. Pink follows me wherever I go:
  9. I have a pink phone where my girliness shows.
  10. But I hate the color pink, it was stated before,
  11. Yet I can’t get rid of it
  12. it’s the color of my MP4.
  13.  
  14. The color pink and I have been long acquaintances.
  15. Shown in my books and my toys and my dresses.
  16.  
  17. I think it’s time for us to depart;
  18. a friendship like ours was never to be a work of art.
  19.  
  20. I detest the color pink,
  21. As I’ve already said.
  22. But I can’t seem to part
  23. from my long-time friend…
  24.  
  25. I still have the shoulder bags and the backpacks and the matching purses.
  26. I still have the hair ties and the bookmarks, despite all the muttered curses.
  27.  
  28. The color pink, it seems to me, belongs to a little girl.
  29. Looking at it now makes me want to hurl.
  30. But I wrote somewhere, at least a year ago,
  31. That if you have a pink laptop
  32. YOU’RE ON TOP OF THE WORLD.

…*^*…

Totally random moment wherein I fancied myself as a poet. I just looked around in my room tonight and realized that, despite my horrible hatred for the color, nearly all my things are pink. Erg. >.<

PS. About the numbers. Well, I had to put them so that everything would stay int he format I wanted them to be in. Sorry for the inconvenience.

© the.Luigi

Cry of Doom


Oh, lookie what I found in the pile of forgotten files in my computer!

Aagh! A shout came through the door
Grr! A voice growled under the floor
Eek! Came from a dark corner
Oh my! I am a goner
Bang! The door swung open wide
Roar! Came the voice inside
Swipe! Went the knife into me
Gone! Was the world I see…

If I remember correctly, I’ve written that thing I call a poem when I was about twelve. Quite morbid and depressing, really, for a twelve year old to be thinking about death. There’s no history behind it. It was just one hyper recess break, a little girl, a pencil and a piece of paper.

© the.Luigi