The Dichotomy Of Discoloration

Lush is said with Green,
Violet is the color-
My mirror, My shoes!
The scar behind my right knee,
Is from the dance last monsoon,
And there’s another on my elbow
A few straight stitches,
My souvenir from a train ride one noon.
The seat painted Orange,
My heart bleeds- Magenta!
Under and beneath,
Below even pits,
I lean and bend,
Desparately to let loose
Of shackles tied with my mind,
Whether or not,
And if this then what?
Perhaps a stroke of Aquamarine.
My head is sore,
Oh what a bore!
I stumble down,
You and I, all is Pale!