destiny is a screw-up just like the rest of us

am i destined to be the color
of mahogany and burgundy?
skin soaked in blood of ancestry,
colors spanning the spectrum 
and dripping down walls in a 
veritable rainbow, i tell you

am i destined to always be the
screw-up, the failure,
the one that didn't succeed?
"success" can be twisted to 
mean many things, but i get
the general gist of the way you
use the term, it is harsh.

i am the color of rusted blood,
of green copper and forest dirt.
it seems i will not leave before
i have found myself painted and
colored like a connect-the-dots

i leak red because i find myself
engrossed in the lives of those
i have created, but i intend no 
happy endings for them. 

The End

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