Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 1
I'll always remember the mornings at home.
Where no one was happy, where everyone swore,
where sadness and anger mixed together and formed

a moody gray. Like the one in the sky before the sun came out
that almost looked blue against that house.
Probably because nothing could have had so little color
as a 7'am morning at home.
I like the grey vibe (or gray idk anymore)
Written by
Izan Almira  15/M/Spain
(15/M/Spain)   
200
     rick and Lyle
Please log in to view and add comments on poems