 Ozzy's Lyric Poem
by firefoxtails
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Most choose to see the world bright and cheery.
But another view is preferred by some.
Instead, they see the world blight and dreary.
Those who find solace being somewhat glum.
Being grey, my disposition is clear.
I view the glass half empty and not full.
Alongside my uncertainty and fear,
Lies a depth of emotions I can pull.
As an artist, I intend to express
These feelings I harbour deep within.
My paintings aren't a sign of distress.
Just the manifest of my sad violin.
Although I am often misunderstood,
I am a Yurble with great intention.
Even on the days when I feel no good,
My art is the silent intervention.
There is beauty in being different,
And something calming about being grey.
Even the clouds can be magnificent,
When they hide the sun during a hot day.
While I'm an outcast, different from most,
It seems that no two sticks can be the same.
And although I don't usually boast,
I've found comfort in bestowing a name.
Still at times, I can't help but feel lonely.
There is only so much I can endure.
My hope continues to fade ever slowly.
I can't help but feel more and more unsure.
As the night ends, I reach my hand up high,
Trying to follow all the flying jets.
A tear falls, and I let out a deep sigh,
Hoping you'll come back from the Virtupets.
And with this heart growing much more fainter,
I now take upon the name Grey Painter.
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