The colour of thunderstorms; a sky full of clouds.
It’s the blinding pollution from the factory afar.
The colour of the t-shirt you were wearing that day, to match the way you make me feel all day.
The hue of worn out black jeans, that compliment a pencil sketch.
It’s lyrics from a halsey song, i listen to on repeat.
It’s dusted charcoal on my fingers, leaving prints on papers i touch.
The colour of my mother’s hair that she dyes every week, in an attempt to cover up battle scars she’s gained.
The colour of inbetween, the colour of confusion. The colour of undecided, so perfectly in the middle.
I’m left wondering all day,
how something so balanced, can only cause pain.
