The streetlamps and the windows flicker to life-
Today the city reignites to another dusk.
Raindrops splinter and trickle down the panes,
And the lights fall and flow over the glistening lanes.
The drops have washed away the dust,
That had gathered over the old flickering lamps.
But the sun and the rain and the clouds, they,
They do not make any difference to me anymore.
The light of my day has long gone.
And my mind is just like my room, damp-
But with suppressed tears. I have forgotten to cry- but where will those moist memories of years,
Whose false illumination only bred darkness,
Where will they go, when no warmth comes,
To dry all of those tears way?
I had held on to a hand of sand.
I should have known it would collapse and give way,
And that I would fall into the dark.
The children now jump on the puddles in the park,
And I think my pen has gone astray.
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 12:42 AM UTC
The streetlamps and the windows flicker to life-
Today the city reignites to another dusk.
Raindrops splinter and trickle down the panes,
And the lights fall and flow over the glistening lanes.
The drops have washed away the dust,
That had gathered over the old flickering lamps.
But the sun and the rain and the clouds, they,
They do not make any difference to me anymore.
The light of my day has long gone.
And my mind is just like my room, damp-
But with suppressed tears. I have forgotten to cry- but where will those moist memories of years,
Whose false illumination only bred darkness,
Where will they go, when no warmth comes,
To dry all of those tears way?
I had held on to a hand of sand.
I should have known it would collapse and give way,
And that I would fall into the dark.
The children now jump on the puddles in the park,
And I think my pen has gone astray.
