Grey
grey is the day, receding foreheads butt concrete prisons, faces crumble as heavy weigh the years…
eyes scour the dust for misplaced hope, and destiny races away over your shoulder, before you know it, converging ley lines, don’t look back, even your past will soon be gone, before you’ve ever really seen the sky, before you’ve ever flown…
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© Sab Will 1998