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Whenever I feel too much, I write.
I describe the ups and downs I feel inside.
The yellows and the blues I feel within;
The reds, the grays, the blacks I feel.
It is yellow when it is happy days,
Whenever I can’t help, but smile always.
I feel so energized; I feel so alive.
I thank God, my God, for a beautiful life.
It is blue whenever I am alone,
Detached to people, and in little pain.
Whenever I made mistakes and felt sorry,
When I am not loved; not someone’s priority.
Red is the color when I am in love, 
The color I see whenever I turned around.
It is the color which interprets my heart,
Yet also the pain I always hide inside.
And when it seems I feel nothing, it is gray.
It’s when God seems to have taken my emotions away.
The color that can’t tell if I am happy or sad,
The color which cannot interpret if I feel good or bad.
But black is the worst, that’s I can tell.
Whenever I feel this, death seems okay.
Starring to blank wall becomes a perfect hobby,
This is too much, thus makes the paper remain empty.
The colors I feel sometimes mixed their selves,
Making me feel excited, anxious or depressed.
So I write just to calm and make an escape,
But the paper still says I wish I am dead.