Gray

Gray
By: Tyler Ross

Hundreds of rubber-like fragments lock in at once, a daily dose of concentrated thoughts ricocheting in and out my brain.  A child’s attention span of emotions running wild without direction, I hide away from the outside.  I am bothered, triggered, and torn between where I want to be, see and feel.  What used to be simple now can never be it seems.  But I still try to find the way out of the gray.  Always in the middle, my life has been birthed that way.  I’m more aware as my journey grows like a lonesome weed in a wildfire field of burning rose.  I once said, “Like shattered glass, I’m breaking free,” but for years I became the glass shattered and I’m finding it hard to mend the pieces in me.  To one day live with less noise and sharpshooting thought and not feel destroyed from the head pounding projections, I myself like a lot.  I’m gray.