What grey is it
Before the rains
With a tinge of blue
And withering stains
Wayward flood
Began a rue wreck
Womb defiling ail
Amidst my earth’s planes

What winter is it
Bluer than the ice
Woeful is the snow
Arid are all wise
Whimsical cold
Bereaved every soul
Wailing trees stand
Airing the malice

What yellow is it
Burning darker than summer
Witnessing all that’s sold
Aloud to Satan’s drummer
Wistful critters mourn
Beneath repine foul
Where aquae scorn
Avowing defile bummer

What falling is it
Binging on the lust
Worn of greed and vice
Autumn shamed to rust
Waiver soil and love
Bestow disguising rot
Waking in droughted trow
Arrived to push and thrust

What world is it
Birds sing no song
Water makes no sound
Awful, where it belonged
Wasted is all the growth
Belied was every hope
We lost the path of truth
And the end is wrong

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