Melancholy Shades Of Grey
Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. I am invisible, like a nightshade, or the souls of the departed. Felt but only when passed through. Forever to observe never to interact. That is the fate, the edict I suffer. To only ever be noticed when I'm needed or when my melancholy greyness infringes on the yellow, red and oranges of the ordinary happy man. So why to I even bother trying to become a part of their world when I know in the end I will just be sent back to my shades, my shadows. I don't really expect anyone to read this seeing as how no one ever really seems to care about anything I have to say. "I a rock, I am an island, for a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries." Wise words to live by. So back in the haydays of yor I creep, ever as slight and unseen as before. I was never here, I am just the memory of the whisper of the east wind, lest important of the four, so soft a contact with your conscienciousness that it may have been just a dream.