Drawn in Grey, Written in Black

I draw pictures.

My lines of life in shades of grey,

The unsaturated colors in front of me;

No color, no life, no hope.

Do I leave this emptiness

Or stay in the shadow that is me?

Do I write down the words, written in black,

Written in blood; in this endless grey?

Or do I put down this pen and let the ink run dry?

There is no hope in this shallow pen;

This grey ink, these words in black.

There is only hope if I leave this emptiness.

I write captions to the pictures I drew.

These words of death written in black,

Those shallow empty words

Underneath those lines of grey.