Always Another Bruise

It never really goes away like rain,
though some folks have equated it with clouds.
Some might call it a never-ending pain,
but that’s like comparing throngs to crowds.

Others equate it to that color there,
the primary between purples and greens.
Though it’s tones can reach from the open air
to the deep indigos of brand new jeans.

It’s that tonal range where I’m mostly found,
though sometimes I break through to the bright.
I’ve swum like hell to keep from being drowned
in these deep darks, then get too tired to fight.

I’ve sunk again. Life’s colored like this bruise
from the fight of always having these blues.