The Furies rush in,
blind in nature, red in color.
Throw the tense out of the present,
into the past,
out of your reach,
leave you out of breath,
with cruel gasps.
They spirit the indecisive blues out of your mind,
throw them into the harsh terrains of lands,
where the heart fears to tread.
The Furies take the pink out of the strings that tie you to others,
and snap them into smithereens,
never to be mended again.
The sound of a mind-numbing blast,
that blows the green of faith,
out of grasp,
into a gaping black hole of rubble,
of unfathomable depth,
from where you may never rise,
once you fall.
You close your eyes,
and open them again,
with an intense craving for the yellow-orange of tomorrow,
but see that The Furies left your world,
but took the colors
that breathed life into it.
No black, no white,
not even the humble greys,
just the searing no colour