You’ll awake to grey mornings
With a touch of chill
That lingers on your fingertips,
And a heart that has not yet
Been made whole.

As you gaze out of dew-dropped windowpanes,
The earth will turn and fall into color,
Leaving you a comfortable shade of grey.

The blinding world of starry yellows,
Of muted blues,
And crimson reds,
Was not built for your eyes.

You are not the dancing glow
of lamp-lit windows,
Or the din of the busy street below.
Inside of your mind, it is quiet and dark.

Tell yourself: 

That the walls you have built
Are for your own protection.

Tell yourself: 

That you have chosen to live this life,

void of color.
Tell yourself: That it was all worth it.