Prejudice

“Rainbows are just colors showing off. It’s a pathetic cry for help!” screamed Cool Gray to his brothers and sisters, also varying shades of gray. None of the colors were invited to this sermon only the Shades, Black, and White.
“Oh the colors aren’t that bad. They didn’t choose to be that way, they were born colored. We should treat them all the way we treat each other!” Black shot back at Cool Gray.
“Oh, come ON!” Cool Gray erupted, his cheeks blackening with rage, “You only say that cause you get to combine with all of them! You’re a disgrace to us all, so are those forsaken mongrels that you produce!”
“Now now, Cool Gray honey” replied Mother White, “Be nice to your father. The Colors are beautiful just as each and every one of you in your special ways.”
Now Cool Gray was mad. His eyes were pitch black, displaying his animosity to the crowd of shades gathered in front of him.
“Mother, Father, you only accept them because you still get recognition! Us grays don’t ever get attention. You’re symbolic, you’re used, you’re important. We don’t get such use, we don’t get noticed, and we don’t get used. We’re hated.” Cool Gray growled, frothing at the mouth into the microphone on his stage. The darker, bolder shades in the crowd erupted with approval of Cool Grays sermon and call to action.
“We should revolt! Kill the colors!” Cool Gray shouted into his microphone pumping his clenched fist into the air.
The crowd erupted into cheers. The crazed crowd of bold grays lifted their monotone pitch-forks and torches alight with gray flame and charged screaming at the rainbow, leaving Black, White, and the dimmer grays in the dust behind them.

The Nature Of the Weapon

The Soldier gripped the cold steel hilt of the life ending tool of destruction. The side of his handheld cannon called a gun, emblazoned with the unforgiving insignia of the army. The symbol glowed in the sun, boasting his beliefs as he charges into a valley of chaos.

The Wind-Up Toy

I’m like a wind-up toy, When you keep me running, I’m dazzlingly entertaining, For an unsure time amount of time, Before they get bored with me, And allow my old gears, Grind to a halt, When all the sorrow, memories, and self-doubt swirl throughout, My lonely mind, My empty desolate mind, Left to ponder questions, Certain to lead to pain, I sit in a dark corner, A box, Waiting for someone to entertain, Waiting for someone to wind me up again