Morbid, gloomy Grey
The taste of Grey is distinguished but familiar
The taste of misery, the taste of depression makes it sweet
It's flavor, it's texture is not often described
I cannot tell you such a taste unless you've had a sip
Grey can never taste Black; sour and hard to swallow
Nor can Grey taste White; sweet and fruity
You can say it's in between flavors of sour and sweet
I say it is neither but a tasteless texture that burns
It burns down your throat like alcohol, a living fire
I've drank Grey too many times to tell you exact flavor
But I can tell you this; It tastes like agony and depression
Such bitter sorrow but I continue to fill my cup with Grey
To feel nothing but agony, to feel human and alive