I wield an aura I didn't feel,
I must have unknowingly
repressed it,
Until you felt it and
addressed it,
I yield it to you,
So the world can feel how you'll
express it.

You ask me "will I go."
I always say "no."
You ask "why stay at home?"
I always say "I want to be alone."
You say "why not come?"
I always say "my day is done."
You ask "don't you ever want to get out?"
I say "how clearly must I speak and shout?"

Once you've left,
how I wished I'd come.
I just couldn't leave my sadness behind and be done.
My loneliness wouldn't let me
speak out and shout "I want to get out, let my day still dawn,
please let me come and be free."

These things were always said
but only in my head.

Grey, how to describe it,
All of its hazy ways to amaze,
It's a smoke that rises from a blaze,
It'll greet you at the dawn of a dreary day,
A streak of it will scurry across your kitchen floor,
It'll tower over you and spit on you all day,
wishing for the end of May.
It's the matter that makes us think and write a poem about it.
It's what allows us to not have to be so black and white.