GRAYISH GRAY
GRAYISH GRAY
Bland little boy,
you’re such a faded gray mess
What happened to the days long ago
when you still had your neon glow, and
your bright and blinding smile
shone freely?
It was truly beautiful, infectious,
your prismatic grin, and your aura was
like a gorgeous kaleidoscope blazing
across the cosmos, spitting vivid
sparks of pure joy
Tell me, dull one, when was it that you lost
your colorful bubble? What terrible thing
turned you to this grayish gray bum who
can’t smile—even though he has no reason
not to? Who put you in this monochrome room playing grayish blue tunes trying to feel
something inside? Who made your heart dead
and desert dry like your eyes? Why won’t your
tears do what they’re supposed to?
I’m sorry, I’m not comprehending, what awful hurt
could have possibly incurred
to leave this twisted spell spreading
charcoal over every inch of your once
psychedelic
soul?
What worthless, vile ghost stole every trace of
color from your spirit’s beautiful flame? Explain,
what GIANT wave crashed down upon your
burning brilliance to make it all fade
away—leaving nothing
in its wake but murky, muddy seafoam?
My sad, bland boy . . .
is it too late to pull you back into the light?
When you look in the mirror, can you
spot a flicker of color still inside your eyes?
Like the sunrise
after a cold, cloudy night,
will you return soon to me,
resurrected in radiant blues, pinks and purples
in the morning sky?