gray

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Feelings

Submitted: November 07, 2016

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Submitted: November 07, 2016

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Dingy gray - that is the morning I face today. The air has no smell and bells don’t sing. I silently pass from place to place, the world a colorless mass of swirling bodies. The sole sensation, a weight like ten thousand useless trifles weighing on my back. The strain of standing almost too much to bear. Yet in my pain, again like a bird building up its nest, the day brings still more to heap upon me. The days of burden like being pulled under water. Lungs burning, screaming for air, yet I never catch quite enough. The fearful pain of limbs giving way, and of sinking to a watery grave turns my stomach cold. at the moment when the weight is too much to bear, a respite , a small portion of time to forget my agony. In this time of distraction the illusion of color is presented to me, only briefly obscured by flickers of gray. The sound and smells seem to return, and things are sweet again. But in the last hour of empty bliss the fog drifts away, the sobering realization of what the near future holds pulls me from peace. The memory of what occurred before, again, fading the things of beauty back to a dingy gray.


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