My Shades of Grey

A snowflake.
A shining diamond in the moonlight,
glittering as it comes.
Dancing delicately,
a ballerina,
a tender droplet of water.

Each one an individual,
crafted by God.
Always beautiful,
a shining diamond in the streetlight,
hovering over the traffic
before touching down and becoming sullied.

I am that snowflake.
Once pristine, once an individual,
before touching down,
becoming one of the masses.
Life has coloured me a
shade of grey.

I want to be a snowflake again.
I long to become untouched, pristine,
tired of this coat of grime that clings.
It's been too long,
I tire easily.
It is easier to remain.

I watch as more fall,
more become like me.
No one is safe, no one
remains clean.
Can you handle the changes?
Will your life last?

And when the sun comes,
we are all touched.
We all melt away,
becoming nothing.
A puddle. A waterstain.
A blip in the cycle of life.

Another Late Night in a Pitch Black Room

And the time ticks slowly by,
nothing more than a nuisance,
only punctuating that I am alone.
Thoughts float through my mind,
heedless of the darkness that I peer through.
Ever alone.
Reckless hearts beat in
lonely times; still more
animal than human.
Time is not my friend, an unwelcome
enemy that resounds in my life as
noise; an echoing tick that
inevitably will drive me insane.
Going it alone was never supposed to be easy,
hardly meant to be a
torture, though.
Insanity walks hand in hand with me.
Nary a footstep made, never a forward motion.
Aborted by my life,
People do not see me, people do not notice.
I feel weaker and weaker,
taking solace now in the darkness,
chances taken, but never coming to fruit.
Helplessly watching as my life spins,
battling myself and society as well.
Life does not want me, I think,
and I wish for death.
Chances are I would not be missed,
keeping me here prolongs my agony.
Reaching for help at every chance,
only to have my hand smacked down.
Only to be turned away again.
My life is solace in a pitch black room.