Drab grey concrete shared by pigeons and starlings
People bustling through in close proximity
The sky is closing in, says my feelings
Rain starts as I navigate anxiety

Some say they miss the comfort of feeling sad
That the sun never breaks the numb hazy clouds
With lies and conspiracy I don’t feel mad
This medicated daze is the fog that shrouds

Greyscale reality blurs what’s real and not
A new bold extension of my colourblind eyes
Despite this I now feed the pigeons a lot
In this overcast city you can hear my cries