Your Thoughts
Were A
Gray Cloud.

I Tried
To Save
You From
Them.

But
They
Just Kept
Pouring
Me Down.

2am and he asks if I want to ****
With no attempt to butter me up

I tell him it all depends on time
It's funny, he doesn't ask to be mine

He tells me he has all the time in the world
I start to wonder if I'm that kind of girl

I tell him not to waste his gas
I guess he thinks I'm a great piece of ***

He baits me with promises of fun
Yet he doesn't try to convince me that he's the one

I tell him that I'm going to bed
He's not getting into my head

He says we'll talk another day
Only if I want it that way

I love it when he asks if I want to **** and smoke
It makes me feel special . . . or like the **** of a joke

Once, it rained. I didn't understand why my mom hates it so much. As for me, I like the wet feet and drenched clothes, the raindrops kissing my head. Until one night, it rained so hard; the night was colder than any other. Then I started to understand why my mom dislikes it so. It didn't listen when I begged for it to stop...

for my pillow is soaked.

We walked around
this gray town
and compared ourselves
to dead trees

We're trapped inside
our gray lives
but together we
felt so free

*c.b.

It's Grey,
The in-between,
An expiration of fate.
I don't recall this desolate sensation.
I will wait,
For sooner or later, a something
An anything will happen.
But how do I know of this?
When colour is all I have known.
I realise.
I have been here since time began.
My subconscious swims in this dreamscape,
So,
I will wait.

Life is a little girl with a white gown
So pure, untouched, naïve to the cruel world
Thru storm and fire she never gave a frown
Instead she danced and to the drums she twirled

Life is a teen in a drab dull gray dress
Who knows so very little but she goes
To many quests and many calloused test
Though all she really wants to do is doze

Life is a woman in a pitch black gown
Who sees the world and knows lots of things now
So many things dare threaten drag her down
She worked so hard and there’s sweat on her brow

But the young girl did not make it to gray
Though all who were dear had wished she would stay

Skies are gray
          Never blue
Here I am
          Missing you