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Description
I walked along they grey sidewalk, under a grey sky, with a grey heart. The sun was stuck behind grey buildings, run by falsely colored people, with truly black hearts. I live in a truly grey world. The sign above my home and workplace was grey. Inside there was no other, but grey.

It was night time, as if it made a difference. The couch made me slouch, so I decided to go outside. The stars, though bright, brought no color. I couldn't see the moon. I cried.

I walked behind my house, against grey grass, not a single flower. It was overgrown again. I went up to the porch, sitting in the faded wooden bench. It swung on chains. It thumped against the house, then the rails. It made a nice rhythm. I wiped my cheeks. I pushed harder, making the beat faster until it was one I liked. I started to do something, closing my eyes.

I sang.

I had been years, as I only found grey in my voice. But with simple hums to the sound of my fake drums, the rhythm made me want to bring it out, to sing in the colors of the wind, and at that time, I realized.

Wind isn't grey, it is colorless in this grey world.

Description
I walked along they grey sidewalk, under a grey sky, with a grey heart. The sun was stuck behind grey buildings, run by falsely colored people, with truly black hearts. I live in a truly grey world. The sign above my home and workplace was grey. Inside there was no other, but grey.

It was night time, as if it made a difference. The couch made me slouch, so I decided to go outside. The stars, though bright, brought no color. I couldn't see the moon. I cried.

I walked behind my house, against grey grass, not a single flower. It was overgrown again. I went up to the porch, sitting in the faded wooden bench. It swung on chains. It thumped against the house, then the rails. It made a nice rhythm. I wiped my cheeks. I pushed harder, making the beat faster until it was one I liked. I started to do something, closing my eyes.

I sang.

I had been years, as I only found grey in my voice. But with simple hums to the sound of my fake drums, the rhythm made me want to bring it out, to sing in the colors of the wind, and at that time, I realized.

Wind isn't grey, it is colorless in this grey world.