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Grayscale Morning
I wake to a silent alarm clock,
Time already running without asking me;
Imperfect plans float in the air,
Like a prepared speech I never got to say.
The room transitions into grayscale,
Colors drained from yesterday’s certainty;
Reflective walls whisper inner thoughts,
Names and bad decisions I can’t erase.
I sip my cold morning tea slowly,
As if warmth might still return somehow;
Numb fingertips trace the edge of the cup,
Feeling overwhelmed and empty at once.
I don’t want to wait for clarity to come,
For life to explain what it never will;
So I step forward with all these weights
And learn to live inside the question.
