The birds whistle away
Tweeting favourite lullabies.
The sun has transformed
Oranging,
From her brilliant yellow hue.
She vanished,
Hiding in her room.

The day
Which once posed
In bright neon shades
Of noon,
Has tasted the shadows
Of the moon.

A slice of the moon
Flaunts herself
In the naked, neutral dark skies.
The earth rages queerly.
Vomitting  a warning sign.


My mind dabbles
In its ignorant guessing
As I gaze upon
The uncertain skies.

I feel like a meteor
Might fall to the earth
Tonight.

These grim moments,
reoccurring  untowardly.
Thoughts take turns in my head.
Like a whirlwind,
entrapping every atom of joy'
in its enclave.

Void depression,
Steal these priceless gems away.
I scoff at my foolishness,
and sometimes at my existence.
Longing,
reaching out to a raging storm,
to wipe out every thought.
To set my captivated soul
free.


All,
yes,
all must depart.
For their roots scream evil.
Some sinister,
others negative,
dark.
None shall I retain,
no one.
For like a riptide,
they reach out to swallow me,
into non-existence.
For their sakes,
I dwell in  this world, entrapped.
As though my sorrows may never dry.
As one with whom troubles, have been assigned to reside.
Like my sun might never rise.
Like the moon,
stealing over the sun's shine,
has left my hands, paralyzed with depression.

A void nothingness.
Enthusiasm, has been  pointed out,
a culprit,
to the dwellers of my heart.
Nothingness,
empty nothingness.
Sadness,
free of weightiness.

Weeping willows wail, wondering why winter walked away without wanting to wave goodbye.



Wintry winds and wild whispers weave their wishes in wantoness. While I watch warmth wrap my wrist and well-built waist.



Warm, warm, waveless waters.

Whist, windless wornout weather wins.

An artist I am
My fingers? My paint brush
My words? My pictures.
My emotions? My colours.
My mind? My easel.
The world? My canvas.
I paint the world
In colours I deem fit.
I paint the world in colours that scream 'ME!'

Sometimes
We need no pills
To heal.



Sometimes
Therapy
Is no remedy still.



Sometimes
Nothing can mend
A broken heart like WORDS.

You
Is the
Short form of
You.nique.