I walk but I do not talk. I spit but do not swallow. I cry clear but it's not clean. For it tastes of salt.
I'm alone, I'm always alone. The silence relaxes me, all I can hear is the the song that the birds sing.
For it is not, depressing, not angry, nor happy. It is still.
I live in a gray house. Some people might say gray is boring and dull. Gray is not a real color the children say. But the children know not of art for gray is a color, for it is only their opinion.
