The Grey

The world dreams in grey; morose... young hearts hope.  Green hats and red hearts capture eyes.

The man looks around the corner, What is it? Whose voice is there?

Its me; do you not know? How are you so blind with squid eyes?

The black shadows creep on the walls. phantoms in a child's mind.

The sun moves over the horizon and blinds the cold colorless city with its pink and yellow. Pollutes the mundane with orange.

Again, I ask whose voice is there?

Darkness creeps

Oh you know, come on, come closer.

The shadow disappears in a pall cloak.

voice in the distance echoes the words- already spoken.

You are not original why do you speak?

YOU are original, why are you silent?

The porcelain walls painted and shouldering the film of age hum with agitation.

It is me that I see?

The words come back but they are frail and stifled. White hair and wrinkled

What have I done?

Nothing.