In a time of only black and white I am half past colored,
choking on grey.
Relentless in my decent I am sent into the fray.
Sentimental sense gone and washed away.
Clean like our hands dipped in dismay.
Can we interest you in a few "I guess it's true" well that's too bad, it's all that's being offered. And it's awfully absurd.
Can't recall when it occurred but here it is. Inside my every word. Within my every waking moment I am observed in blur and slapped with a slur attached to defining my ability to serve. Smothered in the debris of everyone before me, my book is 30 chapters of the same story.
I break from the mold demanding the ever intensifying focus of eyes wide open as I preach from the curb screaming from within my own skin. But I am speaking in tongues
and these ones, well, they are deaf anyway.
In a time of only black and white I am half past colored,
choking on grey.