If pain were a color,

It’s transformed my world from the warm, pleasant, and comforting hues

with which my dreams are enhanced,.

Into a profusion of garish splotches of Reds, Orange, Yellows, Blues, and Purples.

The caverns of my mind are backlit by a deep and ugly pulsating maroon…

The persistent and unrelenting sickening pain of morbidity.

Incandescent flashes of bright yellows and reds blind me

as intermittent and intense pain shoot through my body.

Inordinate doses of drugs serve to assuage these abuses

thereby attenuating the intensity of the palette which surrounds me.

Those bright and hateful flashes are held at bay for an hour or so.

The nauseating and loathsome backround-color

becomes sheathed within a transparent, innocuous grey

serving not to eliminate that hateful ubiquitous pain;

but only to mask it, yet allow me to know that it’s still there.

The thought that this pain serves to remind me that I’m yet alive.

A colorless world may be metaphorically painless

but at the same time, my dreams would lose their pleasantry.

If Pain Were a Color…

This is a powerful poem. Yes, a colorless world might be free of pain, but I think you are right, about joy and pain, I'm not sure you can fully understand one with total absence of knowledge of the other.

Thank you for sharing this.

If pain were a color, perhaps peace could be too. Sending you greens--a waving field of Oklahoma winter wheat among the dun haybales and fallow fields; the green of soft mosses and delicate lichens on a forest floor, the green of wild, peppery watercress growing at the edge of a cool mineral spring.
Thank You, LuminaLuna.