I've never found anything special about my city.

Everything's so completely and utterly

normal,

gray,

like the air itself is pressed down,

pressing everything flat,

smoothing away the edges until

nothing

stands

out.

The same streets, the same buildings,

the same expressions on the people rushing by.

It feels like the universe forgets this place

and maybe we've all started to forget too.



I've walked these roads a thousand times,

watched time flow and seasons change.

But, nothing ever changes much.



Sometimes, I wonder if it's just me.

Am I the only one who sees the gray,

the monochrome painting,

devoid of colour.

Maybe I've stopped seeing the colour,

erased it from my memory

scrubbing it away until only faint outlines remain.



I try to see past the surface,

At the cracks in the sidewalk,

where tiny weeds grow.

At the way the light hits the murals

as the sun is setting.

At the laughter

echoing against the dull horizon.



There's not much, but maybe,

deep inside,

there's a small something,

hidden underneath the gray.

There's a hidden beauty

that you only see if

you look real hard.



But, then again,

maybe not.

Maybe this city is just what it is-

plain,

ordinary,

and I'm the one trying to find something special

in a place where there's nothing to find.