It's just a little poem for Grey Day, and I hope to make it into the poetry contest.
Sees not the flower, color
so bright
Hides in shadows, afraid
of night
Painted by the gray one;
sad
To tell how she became not
glad.
Tears drop from her
saddened face
Won't listen to logic and
lost the race
The sun might be right at
its peak-
But still she simply will
not speak.
She who's painted gray as
mist
Captured in Misery's fist
Looks to all, yet none,
for aid
The grey pet into fog
fades.