Gray

I wrote this poem during my Freshman Year of college. I found it the other day going through a bin of old things.

Brought to his knees
Down on a slab
Bound in a sea
Of waves gray and drab

Chained to a rock
Of crumbling concrete
The tick of the clock
A knife in his cheek

The blade scrapes his teeth
Rust lashes his tongue
From a mouth once so glee
The blood freely runs

It drips its way down
An ivory neck
A collar it crowns
With rosy aspect

Blood there can't remain
No, not for a breath
For red denotes beauty
Which Fate marked for theft

The waves reach up high
They sweep it away
Beneath violet hide
Is salty decay

This is actually less than half of the original poem, but I feel that this first page is more effective than the whole of it would be.