Grey

The longing of my soul to belong, canyon deep; the road long no bridge to connect my heart with humanity.

Grey, you are a colour belonging to depravity. Dull, mute, without life. Grey is really the colour that brought me life. My depravity is unique; a fortune to hell’s realm of life’s destroying. The Devil, did not make my life boring.

The wool sweater of life draped around my soul. The pity, heartache, and misfortune for so many years, Grey, you held my tears.

You were there, Grey with all of the strife. Strife was black and I wore my martyrdom well. You were the comfort I longed with anguish soul. Kept me warm; when my heart lacked hot embedded coal.

You with knitted loops sewn tight, held me together, Grey, with all of your might. Some, saw my story with gruelling fright. Manic, they ran away leaving me in an empty bay of heartless waves of rejection. Watching me drown seemed such good sport. Not knowing I was a mirror to their hate, eyes of spite, hated the reflection.

Then, my dear Grey, you did float along the steps of love. Yellow, searched for me, the sweater must belong to a wretched soul indeed. Yellow, vexed with tire.

Then, he saw my corpse my breathing orphases hidden by waves high dealt by hate. Yellow, arrived as my life dangled between life’s thin wire.

Yellow, lifted me beyond all I could dream. I keep a seam of Grey with me, because Yellow, knows the sorrow in which you gave me comfort.

Though, Yellow and I did paint synergy of wonder; and people marvel at my healing, it is you Grey, that leaves their minds reeling in questions of my survival.

Some see, you lacking Grey, like God himself, made a mistake in your hues. You, my friend are neutral and it why I chose you to comfort me. All the other colours are dearly loved so; but Grey is the colour of the cradle that rocked my soul back to health.

When, I turn ash and white, Yellow, knows my soul is comforting the Grey. For even colours get sad now and then. I let Grey remember how he saved my life. He smiles and gets to be tucked away again. Grey, is strong holding the strife of a girl being betrayed at three. He may not be happy, but made me free. That’s contentment never perfection; that is okay by me.