I Walk Alone

Here, the sun never shines, the birds never sing, and the gardens grow nothing but weeds. The whole world surrounding is trees. Dead and cracking. It rains here, sure, but not enough to supply us with what we need. Here, everything is painted a muddy grey. The rain that falls from the smoke stricken clouds. Even the food here is grey. Bland and tasteless. I guess I shouldn't be the one to complain. We have it easier than most people. It's just hard to live in a world full of darkness. Until you find your one spark of color. And then nothing is ever the same.