Skip to main content

Rain



In the realm of sound and taste, familiarity abounds, 
Thoughts wander freely, like kids in summer rain's surround.
Unrestrained and unorganized, they dance with glee, 
Oh, to be like them, wild and untamed, is what I plea.

This moment holds a touch of melancholy's embrace, 
Wild and sad, akin to a dwarven mystic's warlock face, 
Or a pink unicorn dinosaur, taunting me with sinister grace, 
Such craziness unfolds, leaving my heart's rhythm misplaced.

The pages of life turn at an astonishing pace, 
Just moments ago, serenity adorned my space, 
Yet within minutes, I find myself drenched anew, 
Caught in the downpour, drowning in feelings that ensue.

I profess my love for the rain, its soothing descent, 
But when it falls, my depression doubles, leaving me spent, 
The irony prevails, a contradiction in disguise, 
Rain brings both solace and the weight of gloomy skies.

In the depths of my being, questions remain untied, 
Answers elude me, like moonlight's whispered guide, 
Just as the blood moon casts its eerie glow, 
I bleed within, seeking understanding's flow.

It's bewildering how swiftly I absorb life's lore, 
Yet I stumble and fall faster than ever before, 
Each descent deeper than the previous one's plight, 
A constant battle, within the darkness I fight.

As raindrops cascade, I plummet through the air, 
Yearning for the ground, where emotions declare, 
My sole desire, when I meet Earth's tender trace, 
To sense the impact, finding my destined space.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Curse of Being Good at Context

I’ve been thinking about how good I am at understanding people. Call me an airhead and proud, but really, I am good at it. Maybe too good. It’s like my brain is wired to read between the lines, catch the half-hidden sighs, the subtle shifts in tone. I can sense when someone’s tired before they say it, when a smile is just a mask, when words are doing damage beneath the surface. And I do it so naturally that I barely notice I’m doing it. I make excuses for people before anyone else even feels the sting.  They didn’t mean it.  They’re hurting.  It’s not personal.   I rehearse their backstories and soften their edges, as if by understanding them better, I can protect myself from being hurt. But here’s the thing I’m only now starting to admit to myself: while I’m fluent in everyone else’s pain, I’m utterly mute about my own. When I withdraw, I hear the word “cold.” When I set a boundary, it’s “too much.” When I flinch at a careless comment, I’m “overreacting.” No one ...

A Blank Verse Poetry

I ran this morning. Gray sky, nothing special. Weather that doesn’t force you to feel anything. Usually, I wander without purpose. Today, something stopped me. Time is a trap. We pretend it’s limited, but it isn’t. So we rush through it—steps, choices, life—until it all blurs. The small things disappear. The smell of earth, the quiet air. Gone. A song got stuck in my head. “I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” Unwanted. Persistent. How did it get in? Maybe fate. Maybe nothing. I don’t believe in destiny, but here I was—stuck in the sound, stuck in a loop. The world paused inside me. I didn’t move. The day went on. Hands trembled—not from connection, but from the weight of existing. Scars on skin—maps of past failures. Nothing clean, nothing clear. I touched a cheek. No softness. Smoke? Habit? Grip loosened—like sanity slipping. Wanting to let go, but afraid of the emptiness that follows. I kissed a cheek. A stupid move. A laugh broke the silence. A glitch. A mistake. Coffee a...

Stars and Songs

It’s 2 am and I am still awake. Though I had a long nap this afternoon, for some reason, my stubborn brain suddenly erupts in these manic streaks. My mind suddenly reboots itself and in a couple of minutes, I become as hyper as a kid who just ate 27 chocolate bars.  Since it’s pointless to lie down and struggle to find the best position, I took my laptop, go out at the porch and started writing. As sat there, I looked at the heavens and there shines my moon together with the stars. The sky was barren of clouds and you can perfectly see how the earth is blanketed by the dark sky as the moon and the stars gave it an enchanting touch.  The moon’s light is waning, so are my thoughts. I guess I am lunatic as I can write lots whenever the moon goes full. I consider the moon as my muse so I wondered, Why can't I shift my obsession to the stars?  I think this is quite improbable. Stars are illusions, I mean, most of the time, the light that we see from these stars are actually t...