Colorless perception

My mother gave birth to me in a garden of roses surrounded with paper walls that shook with the weather. Our home had a roof as tough as the ground we laid on. It hid the stars and sky with it wings; veiled the sun with its shade. It was reliable when it rained. Our roof was thing of ultimatum it put protection against love and traded comfort for strength.
I had always met our roof at the extremes: on the cusps of love and hate. I loved that i was safe but hated that i was sheltered. On sunny days i hated the shade and missed the light but i also dreaded the winter. I hated how the rain made him roar, how the walls trembled to his sounds, how with each movement in our home there was a risk of being torn. I hated that this bed of roses was our home, hated the lull of the petal and the slap of the thorns.
I hated that despite our roof that our home was a mean. A Mediocre middle ground. That it wasn't so bad. I hated our roof on most days. How it felt ungrateful to miss the golden rays, to want both love and care - that i wanted to keep both  happiness and being safe. I hated that our roof came with fear for a price, that both me and my mom have tears for a scar. Most of all i hate that for all his love i have received, i have to look at a receipt

www.tgoop.com/heartlesswoes/295

1.3K viewsDec 10, 2022 at 19:09

My mother gave birth to me in a garden of roses surrounded with paper walls that shook with the weather. Our home had a roof as tough as the ground we laid on. It hid the stars and sky with it wings; veiled the sun with its shade. It was reliable when it rained. Our roof was thing of ultimatum it put protection against love and traded comfort for strength.
I had always met our roof at the extremes: on the cusps of love and hate. I loved that i was safe but hated that i was sheltered. On sunny days i hated the shade and missed the light but i also dreaded the winter. I hated how the rain made him roar, how the walls trembled to his sounds, how with each movement in our home there was a risk of being torn. I hated that this bed of roses was our home, hated the lull of the petal and the slap of the thorns.
I hated that despite our roof that our home was a mean. A Mediocre middle ground. That it wasn't so bad. I hated our roof on most days. How it felt ungrateful to miss the golden rays, to want both love and care - that i wanted to keep both  happiness and being safe. I hated that our roof came with fear for a price, that both me and my mom have tears for a scar. Most of all i hate that for all his love i have received, i have to look at a receipt

BY Colorless perception