Myla

She was confused. Muttering to herself questions of what's right and wrong. She scared them, an adult woman so unsure of herself walked in circles, trying to accept all she knew that wasn’t considered what was right. It was her own fault they say, watching her with piercing eyes every time she passed through the streets, she wept, but no one took pity. Her madness confused her, feeding into the lie, slowly her bright yellow dress began to fade.The society surrounded her, pointing out her flaws, every bright idea she had was smothered by gray suits. Answering a question became a failure, she tried to endure. The bright lady became pale out of fear, doubting her answer as the room filled with laughter, while the sound of clouded gray chased her away. If wrong was right and right was wrong, all she knew perished, flipped around in her head the love of colors was finally dead. In her home she packed her things, trying to conceal small bright little things. Just one more glance in the mirror, she look down from head to toe, she shed her last tear for it was forever goodbye to the yellow dress she adored. She packed her dress away with the other bright things and stepped out to the public dressed the right way. The wrongs were no longer confused, if wrong was what is right, then the madness was finally settled. She became one of them for a long period of time. One day, the sun was too bright for them all. The woman walked the same street, now assigned the right career, passing the park expecting it to be as empty as ever. The small pitter patter of little girl’s feet, jumping from one draw box to the other, she smiled and cheered over the game with one winner and one loser, like herself but that didn’t depress her. The toddler in white with polka dotted yellow, ran fast to the lady to gave her a flower. At that moment she remembered. That her mother chose her name wisely, in case she would forget to always be pure of innocence, full strength of a shiny yellow that shouldn’t be concealed. For her name is Daisy Right, who's to tell her what’s wrong with her rights.