When pain surfaces,
it has already been blended and pulped.
It’s that untraceable mash
of the brightly colored clay,
that so easily, yet unexpectedly
merged into that
sickening grey.

We try to master this mess,
to understand and own
to both possess and disown
something we bore
something we bear.

But it doesn’t matter
if it was the Red
that started running into Yellow
that didn’t never saw it coming…
or the burst of Orange
that snowballed its way
and swallowed  the blues and greens.

Soon we will see,
that Grey is also a color
and isn’t just a haphazard mix.
So nothing, really,
needs to be fixed.