Counting Sheep

Where Did They Go?

I look at the floor, at my so long ago try at deciphering the sheep. The weapon was still in my hand, and it was never used on myself, only my sheep.
Are they my sheep?

People, places, ideas... what exactly are my sheep?

In my sight I can only see the black sheep. Sometimes, I mistake the whites and blacks.
...that last part didn't sound right...

Anyhow, I looked at all my black and white sheep, and remembered the grey sheep. The odd ones. The mysterious ones.

They were people I could not form my thoughts around. I couldn't tell if they were suffering or happy.
I couldn't tell if the grey sheep was white or black.

I wanted to know more, but they suddenly slipped from my lives, never to be seen again.

Where did they go?

I had to think. Thinking made the sheep come for whatever reason, which made me lost in the clouds of sheep.

I had a realization when I thought about all of the sheep.

If the grey ones were ones... let's say... I didn't know well...

Then are white sheep... "friends?"

I hated the word "friend." Friend had an "end" to it and never liked these relationships when they simply... blew away.
But this time it was different.

The grey sheep left, and I didn't really see them as a friend. I remember them well, but still cannot say if they were black or white.

Why am I so content on being worried about the grey sheep?