Black and White and Grey.

I live my life in black and white and grey. I wake up drowning in grey skies, then I’m pushed through the current of ashen people under a grey city towards a bleak-grey day. I type the same black words on white paper till I forget what I meant, until I lose myself in monochrome.
I walk back through the grey streets of a colony of black cabs; a hive of bleak transportation. Then I eat the same thing and watch the black sea outside my window settle down to controlled waves. White noise plays as I read grey paper the words of which I’ll forget tomorrow.
But then I’m asleep and I dream in colour. Brilliant, shining chromatic magnificence lights up my world. In dreams I smile yellow and blue, and I’m free. The colour sometimes seeps onto my white pillows, collecting in small rainbow pools. When I wake I carry them with me, but they can’t last long here. Engulfed in black and white and grey they fade.
It scares me because if my dreams weren’t in colour I’d forget that grey wasn’t beautiful. Like them. They only believe their world is fine because they can’t imagine the brilliance of mine.
I live in black and white and grey, but I dream in colour.

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