Your eyes traced the bubbles floating in the dark gray sky to finally explode in a fit of colours. They were the only jewels of this place. Why am I here again ? They were the only coloured things in here, and alas, they were deemed to repeat a cycle that they never knew.
You sometime wish you were them. You liked to think, but being colourless was awfully boring. Everything looked the same, yet wasn't. The same black walls, the same gray river; it was tasteless.
Everything was, but those bubbles.
Sometimes you hate them. You like to think you are jealous, but it doesn't exactly feel like that. You could only describe it by a flame; you don't know it's purpose but it continues to grow, eating everything.
Today, you hated them.
YOU ARE READING
Trucs que je vais probablement jamais finir
RandomHistoires, fanfictions, poèmes, truc weird que j'ai écrit spontanément et que je vais probablement jamais finir même si je veux T^T
