The Classroom Of Colors

The red sweatshirt that clings to me is a blanket of safety that I harbor behind.
The orange bag at my feet holds all I need to matriculate but I pretend I brought nothing.
The yellow walls of this classroom are a cage that keeps the young within sanity.
The green chalkboard says the knowledge of billions of years reformed.
The blue sky outside the window is a beckon for freedom trying to reach my ears.
The violet nails that tap the desk keep the beat of the verbose lecture.