I wake up.

I wake up.

In a cold room.

I go outside.

To a cold world.

I get dressed.

To hide myself in warmth and colour.

I put my glasses on.

To be able to see the shades of grey.

I don't laugh.

Because I've been coupled with cold .

I don't smile.

Because frost collects on my lips.

I don't think.

Because it won't be thoughts warm and damask.

I don't open my eyes.

Because I'm tired of grey.

And somewhere, deep within the fences of my mind,

I've sewn myself a quilt of colour.

To withstand the grey.

I've sewn it with warmth and colour,

To cover up the grey.

I'm cold in a cold room, inside a cold world.