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She looked outside
where it was
gray and dreary
cloudy and
about to rain
what a fitting day
for a girl
who was lost
in her own storm
and couldn't find her way
Dharker 3d
Tell me the difference
Show me the difference

Between you
                and I

What is it like?
To see in only
Black and white

Grey is not allowed
to linger around
in your beliefs

So,
Tell me the difference
Show me the difference

Between you
                and I
Ash Johnson Oct 14
Splintered stained glass holding
Pristine flecks of dust.
Roof agape, char flitting down
Into the greyed palms of their hands.
Marble floors coated in charcoal,
Red pinpricks contrasting grey.
The wreckage sparing only
The memories of those
Who watched.
Frank DeRose Oct 12
What a grey, cloudy day
          It is.
Somber reflections of evanescent tidepools
          Flit by my mind’s eye.
“Be water”—
          Bruce Lee never saw a tsunami, it seems.
And in time ashy skies give way,
          And part their ethereal barriers such
          that Light might shine.
This ceaseless cycle of ourobouros
          Consumes each day.
And still I wander,
          Lonely as a cloud,
Betwixt the Earth and Sky.
          Forever beholden

Between

                      Here

   And


                                                There..
Veronika Nov 2019
it moves
like the moon: full to crescent to nothing at all;
existing all the same until the next phase

it burns
like a knife; eventually less, as the knife gets blunter,
the desire gets weaker
The door in the attic is peculiar
Sometimes I am lucky enough to find it cold
And I will stumble inside and fall far away from here
It's like a dream, a new life
You must look around and above you
And then you will see it
Above, up there, high, far away
There it was, I saw the hole
Through my fluttering eyelids it was always grey
But when I say so, Mother starts to weep uncontrollably
From here I can only sit and watch and ponder
Where it starts and where it ends and if there is a castle of wonder
I'd like to see it one day
Even if I am old and empty, and I have lived forever
Even if I am all bones and dust and dead
But I'm still alive and my pulse is fascinating
I stand up and run, maybe if I run fast enough, I will start to fly
Yet all that comes of it is a dizzy heart and burning eyes
Sometimes, the Big Grey will ask me,"What are you searching for?"
I don't know yet, I just want to see past the shadow
What is it like, where dreams are told, and where dreams are sold?
On the days that she sits me down and tells me what's real and what's not real
I wish I could give Mother a dream too
Because the lines on her face make her look so tired
And that's when they start fluttering again
Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close.
Open.
When will I know what dreams are like?
Nicole Sep 30
Alone and lost, appeared this saint,

With pretty gray eyes, darkness can’t taint.

He stole her from cold, from blustering storm,

Kind and gentle, he took her from harm.

Fearful of dark, he created her light,

A jar of gold, chasing demons of night.

Telling stories of love, he brought to her life,

A moment by his side: no pain, no strife.

He gifted her poems, a gesture on whim,

With every word read, she could see only him.

She counted the days until he returned home,

The boy with his light, the girl not alone.

Invisible to all, a shade wandering in dark,

He brought back her faith, with his pure kind heart.
Jay M Sep 30
Floating in silence
Messages whizzing past
Images and words
Flash before unseeing eyes
Hands extend into the vastness
Never to be grasped

Cool grey
Uncertain of
Where the exit has gone
Vanished perhaps
Along with all other color
No longer anything vibrant
Viewing in muted tones
And a base of grey

Slowly falling
Without fear
Of hitting a ground
That will never come
Forever a loop
Of falling
Never knowing the ledge

Heavy heart
Unsure which part
Or even the whole

Care has fled
Leaving nothing
To burst or share
But a drifting soul
In a long forgotten hole

Knowing what is missing
But no will to chase
Nowhere to go
Remaining still

- Jay M
September 30th, 2020
Somehow emotions have fled, and I'm not disturbed by it. Caring has been difficult, sometimes managing to and other times not at all, and I've been easily overwhelmed (and managed to keep it primarily internal). This is life, I suppose.
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