Slate grey rain
dampens my spirit.
Blurring everything
along with it.
A rainbow of misery,
a wash of gunmetal painted
over the cement-stained sky.
No colour passes this way
all tainted in grey,
the hues and tones
all washed away.
A grim drain, gurgles
sucking the life
from the day, overflowing
with more frothing
puddles of ash-tinged sadness
to stain the streets,
as the hours fade
into the darkening leaden shade,
a nightfall smeared
with the charcoal remnants
of a sun left to wonder,
why it bothered
to wake up at all.
Grey skies conspire,
whispering high above
the spires
and telephone wires,
To circle.
To taunt, the lands
they haunt
and stain with their
dreaded tin like rains.
Melancholy dyed
in stonewash floods,
leaving a place
with no colour.
No good.
Thanks for reading
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