I’m going to try to bleed grey:
Because if I’m bleeding out I want
To be rescued impartially.
No red no teal no
Rainbows in
Me. I’m just keeping shut,
And that’ll work just fine.
You’ll see.
Cynicism is an oven that I've had
my thoughts stuck in.
They've been sizzling like
Cinnamon buns,
Left too long on bake.
Now they're burnt to black;
Broken, because
Their was nothing to them
After I committed to the wait.
Held in too long to the point where it's all
spoiled.
Turns out my grey blends into the background,
Here I am bleeding and no one can see me.
