They said I'll grow out of my clothes.
They said I'll grow out of my childish tantrums.
They said I'll grow out of my little toys, my little fears.
People, they said, are here to stay.
The air keeps getting thicker; my breath raspy.
The world is grey. So are the people.
And in the millions of greys, are a handful of reds.
The reds, I love.
Unconditionally, they said.
Forever they will stay. Without a doubt.
But the reds don't seem so red anymore.
Maybe they're turning grey, or maybe it's just me.
The air is thick with grey and red fumes. Mixing and twirling.
It makes it's way towards me, clouding my vision, my head and my heart.
I'm breathless now.
I close my eyes and fall with a thud.
I see blue.
I smile.
