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Black Coffee

Finding Hope In The Darkest Of Places

By Neil HeddingsPublished 7 years ago 1 min read
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While trying to

Wipe away

The cobwebs of gray

Cluttering my mind.

While I try to look outside

Thru my soap stained window

I can only guess

By the gray caste.

My floor is painted

Gray.

And through it's chips

Is revealed a

Gray concrete floor.

My walls tho painted

Not gray

Only hide more

Gray

Concrete walls.

My aluminum

Toilet

Should shine but

I haven't been

Scrubbing it lately

And it has declined

Now

To a dull

Sheene

Of gray.

The old iron bars

My steel bunk...

A dark and

Grimey Gray.

Even my mattress

Where my body rests

White with it's gray stripes

Is made with a

Gray

Woolen blanket.

This color

It's cold

This gray.

It makes me shiver.

So hard to

Cover.

The colored paint is a lie

To the underlying shades that

Absorb

A very chilly air.

I'm drinking my coffee

Now.

I've made it

Black

This morning.

The water from my sink was

Warm,

And I am making a guess:

It's not yet time to give in.

A change of color

In any way.

Even one as odd as

Black...

It's the better way

To begin

END

inspirationalsurreal poetry
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About the Creator

Neil Heddings

Star I write so I can learn to live with who I am without destroying myself as punishment. Learn to love yourself if you ever hope to love at all.

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