I want to wake up and not see grey.
To see the colour of life- but its all been drained.
My misery hangs over my head like a dark cloud.
Ready to pour down until I almost drown.
It tricks me to believe its dark presence has gone away.
But it lingers, stalking, waiting to make me its prey.
Will I forever be a victim of my own self.
Always seeing grey and nothing else.
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colouring in some spines..
i think everyone could name their own book..
what book would you put on the shelf?
I cannot think..