Sitting on the patio
Beneath the crescent glow,
It casts its silver light
On the quiet below

A chilly night descends,
Escaping the day's rush
Wrapped in a gentle breeze,
In this peaceful hush.

Like the moon above,
Should I fill the empty space,
Or am I just a phase,
In this cool, serene place?

Sitting on a plastic chair beneath the burning noon,

Music fills the air like a distant, hollow tune.

I drift between the realms of dreams and stark realities,

Intoxicated by the mysteries, yet bound by sober ties.

Am I but a thought that lingers in the night,
Or do I truly exist in this fleeting light?

In skies above, where dreams are spun,
Soft clouds dance, blocking the sun.
Whispers of mist, a fleeting shroud,
A canvas of sky, in whispers loud.

Pillows of white, on azure blue,
A celestial waltz, forever anew.
They drift and gather, a tranquil crowd,
Painting tales in the sky, untold.

Cottony wisps, in an endless race,
Chasing horizons, with gentle grace.
Rainbow hues in their folds endowed,
A symphony of nature, playing loud.

So gaze upon this celestial art,
As clouds weave stories from the start.
In the vast expanse, a beauty avowed,
The poetry of the sky, in a cloud.

Tears falling down
In the face of misery
Tearing apart the wound
Of the past
As I crawl into the mist of despair
I found myself in a maze
Of tragedy
Faded sense of reality
Drains the soul
Of the unknown

Hungry for something that you don't have and seeking for it nowhere

Where we're lost
and left confused

Where we're drowned
by unending doubts

Where we questioned
our life decisions

Where we live
and sleep normally