What is the color of failure, you ponder.
A thought that drifts like a fleeting wander.
You’ve long let go of rigid expectations,
so failure feels like distant, unclaimed sensations.
Your first random guess goes to black,
for failure feels like a shadow’s track.
But then you recall, you don’t despise,
that color’s warmth holds your lover’s eyes.
Perhaps it’s neon orange, a flash that stings.
A bold reminder of the doubt it brings.
A color you dread, fearing the gaze,
of those who judge in their narrow ways.
Could it be a kaleidoscope, a mix of every hue?
Where each shade reminds you of a dream that fell through.
It’s a palette of heartache and lessons learned hard,
so vibrant and raw, like a battle-scarred bard.
What if it’s the deep indigo of twilight’s embrace?
A color that whispers about time and space.
The calm after storms, a moment to breathe,
a reminder that endings can still weave reprieve.
Perhaps it’s the sepia of faded photographs,
that were once vivid, but now etched with laughs.
You see how failures hold beauty and pain,
and what is lost doesn’t matter, but what remains.
Oh, have you seen the soft lavender, gentle and wise?
A color of healing, where compassion lies.
It teaches you kindness in the face of despair,
that failure is part of a life that you share.
So is failure a canvas where you paint your own truth?
A chance to redefine what you thought was your youth.
All I could tell you, it’s not just a plight,
but a dance of colors that blend in the light.
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