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Recycled.

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Day in, day out,
An eternity, in one day.
Nothing to mark time, same time going on,
Recycled.
Same colors, recycled,
Until they lose their fiber.
No more colors,
No more time.
Just eternity.

The End
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Amberactuallyritu I hope the world never becomes like this.
This is my conception of hell. No art, no feeling, no difference. No one has anything anymore, we're all the same. Like robots, programmed to survive, and nothing else.
updated Jan 24 '10 by Amberactuallyritu

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Amberactuallyritu You're currently reading a chapter in the poem Shades of Gray.. This chapter was posted on Apr 25, 2010 by Amberactuallyritu.

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