Grey Tongue

When people describe me, they say her words heal but then they call me blunt.
They love my words yet hate my mean.
Little do they know what battlefield my tongue is.
Yes my tongue, now laced with blue icecandy, is not naturally blue or red,orange,yellow,pink as a matter of fact.
Rather it is grey breeding ground of black and white specks outnumbering each other.
Black are the demons of my conscience and whites are angles of my serenity.
These two have been in a constant war ever since I upheld my words.
There are days when black soot invade my battle ground hammering zillions of angels and then there are days when angels cast spells on my demons letting my sweet nectar sweeten the world.
This constant warfare have killed my million words.
At the farthest corner of my tongue is funeral ground heating up with endless funerals of my words. And on the opposite corner is a cut where I constantly bleed yet bloom words.
Black and white are my constants,their war is a constant too, but what I choose mostly is grey. Not too harsh,not too sweet grey is the antidote my heart pumps through veins into my battlefield killing all the blacks and whites.
Grey is the only way out.

Art source unknown


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