About canaries and happiness and how I still can't find those socks.
my favorite color is yellow.
a bright yellow, none of that mustard-y stuff for me.
people say that yellow is a happy color,
they tell me it's cheerful.
they compare it to a canary -
they seem to not remember
that canaries were used in coal mines,
their abrupt death telling miners
to scoot out of there, quickly.
we're implying that canaries are inconsequential.
the death of the bird
worth less than that of the humans.
because yellow isn't cheery.
it might be the color of sun leaking rays
across my floorboards, sunlight dripping from the wood,
but if i stand outside in hot weather,
it'll burn my skin like the most vengeful flame.
sure, 'happiness' may be typically
represented by a yellow smiley face
- therefore fixing our association between the two-
but it doesn't connect to the actual emotion
in any way.
i'm not saying that yellow isn't these things
- maybe, to you, they are.
it's just they they aren't to me,
and it bothers me when people
fix their perceptions upon me.
because, sure, my favorite color
- bright yellow -
might be conceived as 'cheery'.
and it might be compared to a canary.
but everyone seems to forget
that, goddamn it, canaries are caged.