Mr. Grey

I really don't know why I did it. I wanted to post something, but I didn't feel like being funny.

I like his eyes. <3



----------------------------------------------------------------------



This is the Grey Man.

His name is Mr. Grey.

He possesses
No pigments.
No color.
No hue.
Only shades.

His red red lips are the only color on his body,
But they are manufactured.
Their depth is only as thick as the lipstick he applies.

His hair may be greying or it may already have greyed.
Perhaps as he ages, his hair will color.
Who knows?
That combover isn't fooling anyone.

He wears clothes as devoid of hue as he.
His suits are lackluster, drab, and worn.
Yet his eyes.
His eyes.

He looks out upon the world with those sharp dull eyes
His stare is cutting
Piercing
Slicing
Hard
Unseeing
Unceasing.

He has no eyelids.

His movements are always slow and deliberate.
He walks as though some force holds him back.
Perhaps one does,
Perhaps one does.
He speaks as though he were miles away.
Perhaps he is,
Perhaps he is.
He stares as though he sees things we don't.
Perhaps he does,
Perhaps he does.

No one knows why he sits on his roof at dusk,
Turning his sharp dull stare to the horizon,
Watching as the color drips off the world's canvas,
And onto the studio floor of the Painter,
Who might need a new pair of shoes.

He holds no one close.
He holds no friend dear.
He keeps no lover, no pet,
Sheds no tears.
He holds no job,
Calls no man his brother.
Yet one must wonder
If Mr. Grey dreams in color.