Grey Is The Color Of Sarrow {a poem i wrote for an English assignment}

Gray is the color of sorrow. 

As I walk through the field full of nothing but dead grass and thoughts; both poking me in one way or another. I’m drowning. I’m inches deep in Dull colored rain falling from the heavens. But I know this all too well as I am dull. The figment of imagination I have left, falling from my mind in the form of sorrowful tears. But I wouldn't know that, as I am gone.

I am like all, as different as none. The whispers of the cold breeze fills my ears as I walk through the patch of desolate landscape, Thinking. Thinking of what I could have done, What I should have done instead. 

The dead trees and the remaining land surrounded me; covering me in a blanket of down-cast. The sky turned a dark gray. Ash’s from the burnt homes and buildings wisped through the air. None felt familiar to me. 

I miss the warmth of home. Even thinking about the word makes my heart defrost from the cold. But I left, and it's all my doing, no one else's. And now I'm going to drown in my own lack of happiness. My lack of others. The lack of warmth. It's hot outside, but I somehow still feel cold. I'm freezing. The bitter air tears through my coat, as it has done its purpose. 

My ears started to fill with the phrase I’m sorry. The two words were repeated over and over again until it was too loud to bear, slowly turning into a ringing, and then nothing. My feeling goes numb in my fingers, slowly spreading to the rest of my brittle body. My legs were leaving, just like I had. They  started to feel drowsy as they tried to make me stay. But I did not listen when I should have. 

My arms were the next  part of my body to leave. They had done their job. They turned the knob of the door to my house. They let me leave, and they laughed on their way out.