The Gray

I’ve always been a colorful person at heart.

But I tend to not mention this one unusual part.

The truth is, the world’s black and white through my eyes.

While others revel in their technicolor worlds

The world plays around me like a black and white film.

I see mostly gray. Color? Slim.

A lot of the time, I’m sort of lost in a blur,

Craving to see the world in technicolor.

I’ve wondered if I’m able to love for real.

What I’d give to trade some black for some teal.

I’ve thought to myself: Am I colorblind?

Is something in me broken? Just, why?

I used to hate it. But I’ve come to appreciate

The beauty of the black, white, and gray.

Where there’s no color, there’s still beauty, dimension, life.

In the darkest shadows and the brightest light.

Subdued, muted, but there’s still so much to see.

Depth, solitude, and a unique kind of beauty.

But once in a while, every now and again,

I’ll see some color here and there.

A flash of purple, a vibrant spark.

Quickly fleeting, but dazzling and stark.

And these small sparks of color against the gray

Seem brighter, more vibrant in their rarity.

And with this canvas of gray, and color at its core,

I appreciate the color that much more.

So I cherish the color when it comes my way

And revel in its vibrancy, but still embrace the gray.

They may not understand. But whatever they say,

Color is pride. Even gray.

Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this poem, I’d appreciate it so much if you shared it and left a heart, a tip, and a pledge!