Author: Anshika Midha, Class VI F
The demons under your bed,
Or the colour of death, they said.
The shape of grim and dark
Of nights when the dogs bark.
I ask them, not too much-
“While passing judgments such,
See it through my eyes,
Deceiving all the lies.
Black is beauty, black is calm,
It shows stars on my palm,
There is class when it’s groomed,
Turning heads in the room.
Black is chaos, black is peace,
Intriguing to the one that sees it.
The demons you mention as under the bed,
Are jailed as thoughts inside your head,
They have no colour, they have no shape,
You are as pale as they have made,
See, love is black, black is love,
Only a darker hue can be above.”
