Grey, like memories of all those
prayers that were left unheard.
Grey. like things that are always
about to happen, but never do.
Grey, like the dirty water of a
swamp that slowly sucks you in.
Grey, like the hope for a change
that doesn't come, no matter
what you do.
And you feel as if you were
endlessly falling, with an angry
knot in your stomach, with yet
another door in the distance
that could open to anything.
Grey, like the light that dimly
illuminates a fierce stand
against nothingness...
How much longer?
Self-release
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