He's like the color grey on a happy day
******* up anything colorful
into a vortex of nothingness

His voice could put a baby to sleep
It's filled with dullness and talking cheap
Yet there's an edge of raspiness

His posture is slant
just like his old dying aunt
who can't get a grip
on life
just like him

His eyes could be full of life
But instead
they're boring and pale
and not as deep as the sea
that I wish I could write about

There are days where I deeply desire
to write about a beautiful man
who's filled with life
But yet here I am
writing about a real man
who knows what real life is about
and why there's no reason to be anything at all