A charcoal clouded world,
filled with ashen and white.
I see the world like an old-time film;
the way a dog sees it.
But with a twist: grey.
What a sorrowful thing.
A world filed with black white and grey.

Is there more than meets the eye?
Color such a foe?
These hues set life to be inadequate?
Color differs?
In a world where society sees in color,
and is still abominable
we still have hope?
Melancholy.

My dear remember: we are like thunderstorms.
Our own worst enemy.