her eyes sunk in,
some blackhole, i don't know.
some periodical sin.
haha, you're so funny, though.
grandma, what do you think?
grandma, i'm wearing that knitted sweatshirt.
grandma, you kind of stink.
grandma, why were you there in the dirt?
haha, my family's so weird.
haha, look, i see rainbows.
they're sad and smeared.
now i'm sad in these clothes.
my nose bleeds away.
it makes my rose red.
the rose was so very gray,
like the rest of the dead.
i'm looking up at the sky.
it reminds me of ashes.
i wish to one day fly high.
but can't because of fascists.
i pick my scabs.
i breathe in the smog.
i miss both my dads,
but i have my frog.
he's gray.
he doesn't say much.
h-hey!
aw, now we're out of touch.
that's all fine.
i have friends of my own.
no one can see mine.
they say i'm all alone.
haha, everyone's so weird.
everyone's so sad and pessimistic.
no one is really revered,
pacifistic, even optimistic.
they're fascistic,
sadistic,
masochistic,
antagonistic.
my dads say i make those people jealous.
i'm colorful while i'm gray, they say.
they told me while being very zealous.
my dads say, they say, i work in a different kind of way.
compare me to a colorful grayscale.
i work in a different kind of way;
i'm happy as everyone is sad, pale.
i'm positive all day, my dads say.
i'm the light they all need.
the rainbow in the gray.
the red in a rose by my blood.
a colorful grayscale.
