I put on a weary eye,
Submit to the night sky,
And then I write;
Of how the kaleidoscope colors,
Are now melancholia infused.
Of how the travelers have become vigilant,
Of how the birth of every dawn,
Has become impotent.
Of how the nothing has become our everything,
Of how I can’t even have a chicken wing.
Of how I’m livin’ the highest of highs,
And the lowest of lows…
The night time sits on my chest,
The melancholia starts to infest,
My very mount Everest.
The darker hues unfold,
I ponder upon the untold,
Stuck on the highway of uncertainty,
My blood may never rejoice in harmony.
So, I put on a teary eye,
Wishing for it all to leave with the tide.