ÿþThere was a time,
Where I would write a song,
It would be about a bloodied rose,
Shattered dreams and unfinished symphonies.
A time when bright colours were absent,
and darkness ensued in the depths of thought.
Then as time passes,
The colour slowly returned,
Dull shades of red, purple and blue,
And then the bright greens and yellows took over,
Colour and light taking hold of my song,
Banishing any darkness that remained.
As time moves on,
The initial colour fades out,
Initial youthful brightness burning out,
Leaving not brightness but not darkness either,
So how does one write a song about monotony?
The greys and shades of the inbetween.