as an act of altruism.
The reds, the
blues- the
overlap. The
last color under the rainbow.
An under believed
afterthought.
Hypothetically,
you’ll come out as half
('cause to them,
you will never be whole).
"Dear, sweet brother,
I am the epitome
of half
your phobia."
The color of high-pitched sound waves, that is
your parents’ shrill, unsettling
screaming:
A path to a fiery purple
Hell.
Prince's hit song,
your mother cries.
Your father throws down his
eggplant
parmesan.
Yet,
you have nothing to repent.
Author Bio:
Lauren Page is a junior at Virginia Tech, living in Blacksburg, VA. She is studying microbiology and on the pre-veterinary track, but in her spare time enjoys writing poetry and is minoring in English literature. When she isn't in class or writing, you can find her in the great outdoors, working at a local veterinary clinic, or interning at the Blacksburg farmer's market. Lauren's poetry mainly focuses on equal rights and current issues. Her poem "Purple" first appeared on The New Poet.