Grey

Grey, a shadow in the crowd
(That's what you've turned me into)—that 
Smoke-like creature, like all the others. Yes, 
You would allow the coldest thing
To lash against my naked back, 
Until I couldn't stand the pain—
So stupor: and I could only stand to look away. 
They wrapped me up, and slipped across my
Wrath-burnt eyes (those eyes that 
Refuse to be, and so they break), into tears that trickled

Down (I withered

As I tried to convince myself
That it was only the cold shower).

Dale Chou
2002-09-09