Gray (My first poem to be posted on my blog!)

Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas indeed.
The pain is too great. Need I concede?

"What before you other than a pad,
A pad and a pen, yet no purpose?" he said.
"A mind and a body but no real voice,
And a vault, with you as its lonely prisoner,
And you're locked inside, key thrown away,
Clothespin clipped firmly to your tongue.
So don't even bother me on this day,
For you're a failure in every way."

The guard is so subjective, my friend.
The guard is a spayed weasel. Fuck him being a Godsend.

Oh devilish monstrosity! I'm caught in a web,
A spider ready to feast upon my apparently empty heart.
I thought I was the sun until there was the eclipse,
And evidently, all the other people could still see
A world full of vibrant colors. Rainbows and stuff.
Me? Well, I guess I'm in the gray on that one.

The guard, he's the judge, too, my friend.
If you're not careful, he'll give you the bend.

Teacher! Teacher! Tell me what is light,
Tell me where to go to reach the light,
For according to you, I'm the epitome of a rainy day,
Despite all for you I slave and slave.
You're the prophet and you claim everyone else is, too,
But then there's me, and I'm the ugly duckling, the fool.
And that just makes me so blue.
I guess I haven't the soul to sing good enough for you.

Omnipotence is apparently the norm
To one who so pontificates his thoughts to the swarm.

Gray is my day drifting deftly into night.
An open casket invites me in for a flask of dirty water.
I haven't a thought that you'll appreciate,
So that casket looks so inviting tonight.
I lay down, dressed in a mundane tuxedo,
Looking like that fucking duckling. Oh, wait. I am the duckling.
Slowly, its lid grows larger to my eyes
Until all is dark and not a shade of gray appears.
All are dead shadows in the land that never was,
A graveyard of what were creative thoughts.

Check. Nothing special. Nothing special indeed.
That check is gonna really bleed and bleed.