.You and You.They say there is one personIn the world that looks like youSo if you are one and he is oneThen together that makes twoThis of course begs the questionThat if he thought like you and talked like youThen would this other he, in fact,Quite possibly be you?And if then by chanceYou and you were to meetWould you be able to tellYourself from you two?Or would it suddenlyAppear to be as such-That you were no longer youIndeed, but one or the other?They say there is one personIn the world that looks like youIt is a wonder that if you met he,Would you reform yourself anew?And if such were the case..would he do it too?
.Colour.Red. That was the colour he loved most; the red of his mothers lips as she kissed him goodnight. Then there were others. Bright yellow. Sky blue. Pink flowers. Orange fruits. Green trees. There was a time when he could remember seeing all the colours as they were; vibrant and full of life. He remembers sitting on the roof of their small house, staring at all the different shades as they merged together forming the landscape of the city. Of course, at that time they just looked like bright dots and squiggles to him, and yet he would stare at them all day, as children do, and delight in their presence as they danced before his eyes.He does not remember seeing that much life in a very long time."Please sir, will you buy-" he was cut off. The man didn't even look at him before shoving past. Looking around at the practically deserted street he wonders when his life became so dark. Somewhere along the line everything had transformed into shades of brown and black. Dead. He could no longer