grey
the hair
the sky
the feelings
nothing special
nothing loud
Grey Sunday
Sunday.
The cat
three coloured
wants food
boring
boring
Feed the animal
make coffee
Sunday morning
monosyllable
Waken, look out
The day like other days
not going anywhere.
not to see anybody
No friends here
The son turns on the oven
at half past seven
that is now
he wants to heat up a cake
for Sunday breakfast.
And nobody will clear up the mess
in the house
in the head
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