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Jun 2022
I stand above on this cliff,
Before me, a legion of colour.
As they march continuously, endlessly.

I demand them to stop, to become stiff,
Their colours, to fade in my land of grey.
For I can’t rest till they’re all grey.

My cries fall on Death’s ears.
Their power impossible to the light.
And the colours continue forward.
I saw a red door and wanted it painted black.
Richard Graydon
Written by
Richard Graydon
  194
   Ayesha
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