It's dark with lights, cold mixing with warmth, lonely with company, endless yet small, scary but also friendly.
That's what this town feels like. One thing yet covering another feeling.
A silky noose.
Hugging a corpse.
Jumping on a bed of nails crusted in rust.
Willing to drink poison from the bottle.
Telling white lies.
Hiding in your grave from others to find you.
Using Black outs to be notice.
That is how that color is being remember in eyes who are not bright but also gloomy of the truth.
"What a hated color you are." The voice poured the words out, not even knowing that they left.
Looking back up into the sky, knowing that was the source of the hated. Clouds painted in that alienated vividness of what is called Dark Gray. Not paying mind to rain falling down upon the person, the town, and those who lived in it.
Some would be seen rushing about not to get too wet, when a few take their time. Stepping in puddles in dismay or joy.
But some how, this one person felt in the middle of it. Choosing not to walk around and find ways out the rain, while the face showed it didn't the rain being around and kept walking.
Without a care and thinking soon to hail down a cab, but not just yet. In another hour or so, maybe. But not yet.
For that is how Dark Gray is.