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Budding
Now, I am a mellow grey.
Yes, some greys are complex,
hinting at oranges or blues,
but my grey is just there.
My grey hides its passion, its life.
Easily exhausted,
it is a backdrop
that does nothing to entertain one’s gaze.
But inside of me hides leafy green.
Bright, fresh, a new beginning;
forgivable, for despite months of absence,
so many greet it in the spring.
Are there people I know, waiting for spring?
There might be hope, or faith,
that hasn’t been sucked
into this endless void of grey.
Maybe, there is someone out there waiting for me to bloom.
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