Dark, light and grey

In the light there lives

sorry and in the dark

exists hate, and you live

in both places, while I

live in the terrible grey.


Is the dark consuming you

and sucking up the light?


I live in the spaces between,

too afraid of both, not wanting

to feel the sorry of this loss,

and not capable of hate.


I wish, like a child, for colours

again, and life beyond the shades

where the sun casts its yellows

across this troubled place.