Dreary depressive days
the pressure to be colourful when all I feel is grey
the need to play, to take a step outside and far away
a miserable flow of rain, drizzle that soaks the skin
the slate coloured skyline, the world slows its spin
The drone of a damp day, monotone
groans like the sound of a distant telephone
drilling its tone deep into the bone
a moan from a sky painted like stone
a note of dread, played deep inside the head
reminders of tears shed and hurtful words said
Grim the clouds that mass
like a pack of wolves ready to attack
they snarl, but they don't bark
they dispatch no bite, the don't put up a fight
they just circle, the menacing eyes just a lie in the dark
like a grey sky with no thundery sparks
Thanks For Reading,
Peace & Love
Kyle.
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