Grey Days

The darkest days were the grey days. Grey days; when there was nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to feel. To be given paper, to be told to colour inside the lines. To be told no, the tree can’t be purple, or yellow, or blue. To be given 1+2=, 2+2=, 3+2=, until even the crunching boredom of nothingness was better. Sheets would be left unanswered, bodies would wander and wail. “Come on” the red one would say, “you know this!” You do, you do know this. You have known this a long time. And its mind crushing.