The dirt never seem to go away. The mud does not seem to erode. The dust has not been blown away.
The lock is still there,without its key.
Maybe not everyone has that special something. Or maybe it is just me. Maybe I am just suppose to be part of the grey. Not black, nor white. Nothing to give, nothing to contribute. Just that speck of dirt.
Not one clue, not one direction. Where can it be?
Hidden deep within the struggles of the mind. Buried under worries. Covered by the blindness of the heart.