chroma (n) - from the Greek word khrōma; the purity of color, its freedom from white or gray; the intensity of a distinctive hue.

I sit here and stare and read
Eyes burning from this screen
Or is it from the rivers flowing down both of my cheeks?
Confusion settles in
Like cement
Like sinking down into a dark abyss—why are you doing this?
Why did it have to be this way?
The lies, the deception
It's like you wanted my identity to be erased
For my heart to be dismantled, demolished without a trace
Is that what you've been trying to do?
To deconstruct your own existence while sabotaging mine, too? Why? Because I was kind to you?
Because of the graciousness I tried to extend?
Is this your way of punishing me? By turning me into a joke with your brothers and your friends?
I guess it is
I guess you were laughing at me all along
That's why you crucified my name before crushing my heart and my song
Why you laid so many traps
Why you vilified and shamed
I never, ever meant to hurt you
Yet you wronged me in so many ways
On so many days
I've never been so heinously betrayed

However…
…HOWEVER…
(I have to say this now, because it feels like now or never)

Despite all these things
Despite my broken heart because of your twisted games
And the fact that you've never said you're sorry—not before, not ever, and certainly not today
I choose to forgive you

DID YOU HEAR ME? I said I forgive you for these horrible things!
For the lies and deceit and all your callous ways
Because God still sees your life in the richest of chromas
And He's the one who vindicates

So I'll still speak blessings over you
And I'll still remember you whenever I pray...