I don't know what to do with all this grey
It's stodgy, it lives in my insides
It drips down onto my hands
It makes sickening sounds
I'm told I may lose my hair
I may stop feeling
It is hard to bare
But it unfortunately is the answer
I was better at this once
Drinking, smiling, being.
I made the choice of speaking out
I hope it was the right decision.
Because I have friends on the cliffs
I see grey on my wrists.
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