That bright blue sky
Must hit every eye
With a slightly different blue

Who would’ve thought 
that my shade of blue,
Wouldn’t be shared with you?

Who’ve known one day my blue
Might be faded or grey-scaled,
Covered from view.

Who will tell me if my eyes are wrong?
How can I trust them blindly still,
For how much longer will I play along?

Who’d prepared me to fear my neighbours
When they criticize my view
And make me cower from them too?

Will I forever ask if what I see is proper?
Did I choose these eyes I’ve gotten?
Are they rotten?

Hold on,
I’ve got an itch in my eyes.
Let me peel back these lenses.

Since when is the sky orange?

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