The Grey
An emotional stain, like the stages we move through
How we move through pain
Look at me, colours don't know me they don't see all the grey that I am
But don’t think to rebuild the grey, we were meant to be like waters of dirt and tears.
If I could I would lend you to the soil. Here she could teach you that not everything passes because our roots are made of many floods and of many droughts.
We are what the sun could not absorb.