A new day is come, but the greyness is here.
All streets and faces are still grey.
It seems as usual, but this grey sky
Drives me crazy in whole to the extreme.
I see grey asphalt before my eyes.
Sick grey thoughts are overpowering.
It seems as usual, but something’s wrong.
This allout greyness’s cheekily inhering.
I open the window, I want to breathe.
And this grey air arrows me roughly.
It happens boldly, it happens rude.
The air grips me unceremoniously.
The greyness is becoming the part of me.
Even my coffee is cloudy grey.
I’d like to wrap and sleep till snow.
Just want to know it won’t be grey.
This poem is about the state of dark fatality inside and the full emptiness around...
