Liking Colours

I like the colours of the wall and mirror,
Lost in the entrance of a thought, beaten.
One of those ideas strikes me rich
As I write a letter to the government.

Haste and pleasure combine to irritate,
Wonderful sentences are colliding with paper;
Most words hit the floor from the roof,
The ceiling collapses from too many words.

The phrases are built at a strong rate,
Filling the dear old years with thoughts so bold.