Grey

If I could but paint the sound of a thousand screams

that have wrenched all feeling from these remains,

I’d take the art with dead eyes and burn it,

For the sake of saving a thousand souls.

Humans weren’t made for such a sound as that.

If I could but mimic the blood of a thousand hearts

that has seeped through breath for an absent cause,

I’d take it until it burns through my pores,

if only to save those thousand souls.

Humans weren’t made for such a sight.

If I could but look into the sunset,

and see anything at all but those thousand deaths,

maybe my eyes would not be a cracked desert,

and maybe I’d allow myself to hear an honest laugh.

But humans weren’t made for this.

You see, at first it’s all red and black…

You hurt, but at least you are still alive.

Then, after so many, you don’t cry anymore,

because that red and black has faded to grey…

To an eternity of loss. You can’t.