Colour.
It comes.
It goes.
Rainbows have colour.
Raindrops don't.
Even when it's dusk, even when it's dawn.
The colour I see is bleached.
Slowly leaking out of the world.
The sand is grey on the beach.

The sun.
The sky.
The ground.
The earth.

It'll all turning grey.
Or black.
Or white.
The colour will leave.
The shades will stay.
It's hard to make it through every day.
Colour keeps leaking.
They slowly get dull.
The reds turn black.
The yellows turn white.
The blues turn grey.
And now all greys are the same.

People tell us.
They teach us.
They say don't attempt.
Even if you want to.
They say it's all in your head.
A problem that needs to be fixed.

They don't talk about the pain.
The numbness.
The emptiness.
They don't talk about the grey.
The black.
The white.

They tell you to stay.
They say it's a colourful world.
They don't see it fade.
They think you can still see the colour, the light.
But they don't know.

You can't see anything but the darkness.
You don't want to stay.
You see the colours less every day.
You think you see hope.
You find out you're wrong.
You can't take the pain.
You can't take the emptiness.

So before the colour is gone.
You take your last step.
You watch the greying world as you tumble towards it.
You see what it was like.
You see through younger eyes.
You see more colour leave every year, leave as you get older.
You see it coming back.
You see all the colours.
You see them in a kaleidoscope as you spin to the ground.
You see how they used to be.
You see them through memories.
You see them as your fall ends.
You see them all.

Until all you see is black.