Emotion, Poem, Response, Thoughts

Lost Pages: Grey

Blots of black on white,
Or white on black,
Mixed by the twirl of the brush
Blurred by the smudges of my finger across paper…
Conceptually painted by the murky in-between of reality & imaginary,
Unsure as to whether real’s unreal,
Or whether unreal’s real…
Not good, not bad,
Just moving towards ugly
Not even being funny,
But neutrality seems to be my calling,

Pacifistic mentality,
Willingly, Un-becoming,
Paid the lukewarm band-camp membership fee
Cos I was too hot to be cold,
Too cold to be hot,
So as to get spat out,
When one goes to drink…

Light mixing with darkness,
In a dance of abstract colours,
So we twirl, twist & turn,
Like the yin-yang symbolism
Unwilling to let go,
Fear of choosing a side, perhaps?
Fooled to think both sides are ‘equally’ good, perhaps?
Unaware of the possible outcome,
Like closing one’s eyes to the implication of grey clouds up in the sky…

In the end,
There lies just rain, chills, thunder & lightning.


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