Dancers like Russian ballerinas
but the colors have now faded away
The colors so bright and so bold
are mere memories of the past
There were hands, which caressed the cement, the mortar
Creating beauty
and art
But someone didn't agree
someone had to hide
someone had to flee
the reds, oranges, and yellows
golds, and greens
No more purple, no more white
Everything went black
then blue
When we heard
I thought they were going to cut off your fingers
instead
they pulled out your heart
we all cried the day they painted over it.
