Grey Area

The world is not cut
in two equal halves
and neither is it
halved in black in white.

Never so strongly
do I feel that than now,
neither happy nor sad,
but in the grey area in between.

Think me not as overjoyed,
and neither am I deeply morose,
think of me as more unsure,
and torn and conflicted.

Like I've been hit
with a wave of static,
the charge enough to upset,
but not enough to last.