If anxious times the preservation fit,

Depression finds the deprivation hit,

The story of a life unseen but with

the homey feel of strife between the wits.

I’ve never been a fan of colors bright

and screaming, nor have I prefered extremes,

the dark too black, the blinding shine too white,

into the deepest cyst of mind retrieved.

Everything is a grayscale

I say I hate all, that so much is true;

she demands her morals on me and you,

he thinks his acceptance is special too,

they see, objectively, one vision, food

for thought, only hell, pain, and tears they brought.

I’ve spiraled down the stairs, some thought they cared,

so hard I’ve tried to climb, but only wrought,

And bang.

                 I will try to not mess my hair.

Everyone is a grayscale

And throughout life, you will climb many hills,

so choose your fight, be content with trite shills

or, like Lee, flow all watery, but pills

overdosed, painless end I welcome still.

But this? The hill you want to die upon?

Swallows soul, sows your single act of reap,

Slip away to infinite evening dawn,

Long have I searched for peaceful counting sheep.

Everywhere is a grayscale

Should you, should I, or should anyone not

The end is nigh, or the trend just high fought?

Higher than I could ever hope ascend

I welcomed the end. But never again?

Everything is a grayscale.