Grey
His
life had turned to smoke
His
rainbow was now a cannonball streak through the sky
His
once warm blanket was now elephant skin
His
once colorful rug was now a slab of cloudy concrete
He
tries to speak, but there’s nothing he can say
He
begins to choke
His
acid tears fall as he begins to cry
He
did not wish to be this, drowning in sin
His
life, now as colorless as an old abandoned street
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