I am grey.
It’s not in the rainbow.
It is the color of old age, and even the old agers loathe it.
That’s grey.
That’s me.
An impurity in white makes grey.
A deviation from ideal behavior.
But, what exactly is grey?
Let me define it:
It is not as cute as pink,
It is not passionate as blue,
It is not wild as red,
It is not live as green,
It is not smart as yellow,
It is not bubbly as orange,
It is not intense as violet,
It is not as rich as white,
And last but not the least; it is not dead as black.
That’s it!
This is grey.
It is like the revolving galaxy, expanding universe.
There is a lot to get explored, yet there is no body to explore.
Oh! She must be happy.
Finally, she could experience the peace of mind without any disturbance.
She was sad.
‘Cause she wanted to get disturbed.