Grey

Blah. Grey day. Its a dark, rainy day. The clouds roil over the land. They cast their shodows over all the little people. How is your day"? they ask. "How are those responsibilities that youve irked out for yourself? Go. Do youll little tasks. Live your little lives. I will be heree, watching. Enveloping you with my cold imbrace.
Steely gray. The color of slate and shale. A shade somehow more devoid of life than black, but with a distinct voice all its own. Grey things in life denote a serious, sort of modern feel. The gray of old was a standard. Today gray finds itself ss almost a novalty. A world of eccessable color has to grey into a choice, rather than a base.
But not on a day like today. No, today grey rules the land; with an iron fist, or perhaps, more appropriately one of steel it would seem. It give ruse to our insecurities. It lets our little gloomt demons brweath. Could there be a benifit to this release of meloncoly? Perhaps. But its hard to see what it could be through the rain clouds. Just rain clouds, not even storm clouds. Storm clouds have more personality. Eyeor would have been pleased.