A poem about depth, identity, and what lives beneath the surface—where emotion stains the soul in shades unseen.
Sorry to tell you
from my indigo I bleed
Cranium indigo
birth—genesis conceived
A hue not chosen
but written in my veins
A quiet storm of color
flowing through my pain
Indigo thoughts drift
through corridors of mind
Echoes of a self
the world could never find
Buried in silence
yet louder than the truth
A color born ancient
yet carried in my youth
If you could see me
beyond what eyes allow
You’d find this indigo
is who I am now
Not broken—just deeper
not lost—just unseen
A soul painted truth
in a world chasing clean
— Sam Tumblin
Poet | Songwriter | Storyteller
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