Lyrical Life(#1): Color Blind

I hope to do this as often as I can...A poem on my feelings for the week,I hope you enjoy them.Let me know what you think,if you please.

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From a filter tinted blue
the light of the world shines through
Never right
never wrong
Yet non-the-less truthful

Cold river rushes by
Pushing me down to the ground

Up again.
Muddy water on the bank
A slip
Then a trip

Red is overlaid
purple is my pigment now
A sad mix
A mad mix
Blinding rage flashes ruefully

Swollen eyes
Sullen
Down cast
A stumble
A fall

Jagged rocks
Gouge flesh
Rend the soul

Green is laid upon
Grey the world is now
Muddled
Morose
A mess
Longing for more

Life goes on
In the current below
Uncaring
Unflinching
Me caught in the dead spot between

Blurred and jumbled
Clarity is needed
Foresight to forge on

One step
Then another
Glacial currents
Submerged

Colors fade
Separate
Then brighten
And disperse

Legs unsteady
One then the other
Up the slippery slope

World all shine and glare
Blindly smiling
I walk on

Atlas(a poem)

On a ledge
high upon the wall
sits a statue
grand and tall

A wonder to behold by all!

With chin held high,
eyes defiant and daring,
Its shoulders and feet
set square and true

holding the weight of the world evermore!

But look close
and you'll see the flaws...

A thumb print here(to make sure it stayed in place),
mismatch tone there (really,who cares?)
and many, many more.
All hidden, not laid bare.

look closer still
and you'll see
it was damaged long ago...

Dropped without care to the floor;
Stomped,
Thrown,
Beaten as a rag doll.

Packed away unwrapped,
left in the dark to rot.
Even tossed about in a box of rusty nails.

Collecting dust
and gouges
and nicks and scraps and bruises
all along the way

Broken again...
not sure if it was a push this time
or a fall
but really its been cracked all along...

Patched with mud and straw
time and time again
It was made thick,
yet broke again
and thicker still.

It never helped-
to much clay mashed on will only make a hollow thing cave in

This time things aren't the same...

Yes, the pieces are picked up,
are glued back together again.
Yet we find parts all shattered to dust
or ones that don't fit quiet right at all.

On the ground,
deep below the ledge the Proud One lays.
Patched and dejected

A wonder to behold by all!

With teeth clinched to the gum;
His back contorted and compressed,
His knees pushed too far in,
and His legs off kilter

He holds the weight of the world Evermore!

Look closer still
and you'll see more flaws

and love him still...

I'll stand right here,
with eyes unblinking
and heart beating in my chest

and admire His reflection evermore!