Grayscale

Story/Poem

Age: 8.
My world had been the same as many.
Average.
Passionate.
At times aspirant.
A bright world with no permanent signs of changing.
Until a day I had first witnessed the purest emotion.
Anger.
Not as a giver, or receiver, but as a witness.
The first time I understood anger as well as my parents themselves.
Screams reverberating through the house as if thunder had struck.
Though, instead of crying as a child should I asked myself a question.
Why?
Why do these feelings happen?
Why do people get sad, mad or scared?
Then I had an epiphany.
What good are these feelings?
What purpose do they serve?
I'll move on without them, who needs em'?
That day was the day I first saw gray.
Looking down on myself I saw a gray person in a colored world.
What did this mean?
As days went along, like any life progression, tragedy struck.
Grandma has died.
Having closeness to her I think, that sucks.
My parents on the couch, staring at me and my blank expression.
Smiling I say don't be sad, that has no purpose.
As the color of life drains out of my mind.
Turning all I know into grayscale.
HOWEVER!
There is much you can do with a paint and a brush.
Cause some emotions forever stay tethered.