Trance

My eyes soaked in insomnia
Show me an untouched palette.
Never did I bother to know
This monochromatic existence,
Replete with fables of stoical forbearance
Of reality,
Was my only respite
From the treachery of this multihued world!
How can I complain?
Can happiness fight with its reason,
Time and again?

The colours that I see,
Paint a picture no better than yours;
There, I see you broken,
In bits and pieces, on fire burnt pages,
But I still tremble with love
When I hear your voice in silence.
How can I complain?
Can sobriety fall for inebriety,
Time and again?