I Detest the Gray
Wind rushes through my hair, over my face, my lips,
I’m at the headiest of dizzying heights; it’s pure bliss.
Scared? No! Maybe just a little... But it’s a good feeling...
I look down there, I see little dots randomly moving.
I am so high above, indomitable, untouchable and aloof...
The sun is my sister, the sky is my roof.
You won’t find me here, gray.
I approach the edge, tentatively first, and then boldly.
I look down, these dots so far away, so so lowly...
Lowly and yet so peaceful, peaceful and so so content!
My heart thuds painfully, my thoughts are pure torment.
The gray does not toy with them, they never feel it.
Why do you pursue me, you vile, vile spirit?
But, You won’t find me here, gray.
I like red, with it’s passionate outbursts of love and anger.
I love white, cold finality, pure purity, blank with hunger...
I don’t mind black with it’s clear clap of absolute finality,
Or yellow, in spite of all it’s cheerful impunity.
I detest gray, it’s stifling and uncertain.
In its enveloping embrace, it’s cloying smoky curtain.
But NO, You won’t find me here, gray.
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