Infested

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There is a shade of grey.
Like the inside of an empty vessel.
No rice. No pickle.
The colour of a hungry heart.
Blood turns to sewage.
Infested by rodents.
Gnawing.

There is a shade of grey.
Like the tarmac on the road.
No journeys. No destinations.
The colour of nowhere to go.
Dreams turn to daggers.
Infested by regret.
Bleeding.

There is a shade of grey.
Like a cloud that never rains.
No mirth. No laughter.
The colour of empty promises.
Screams turn to whispers.
Infested by silence.
Screeching.

There is a shade of grey.
Like the tempting blade of a knife.
No friends. No memories.
The colour of fickle fate.
Souls turn to snakes.
Infested by life.
Ending.

There is a shade of grey.
Black.

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