Darkness, a clasping press around a heart,
The surreal motions of city life in the rain
Slowly drifting, defenseless as I tear apart
Bothered nonchalance, letting in the pain.

A papercup of coffee, a vice for contemplation
Amidst the pristine smiles which is yet to conceive
The fleeting awareness of the threat of preparation,
Sooner, at least once, one finds a way to leave.

Nothingness is a kind of gift too,
But it can also be cruelly taken away
Everything is true when nothing is true
For those sighs that hurry up to end the day.
Drifting in guardless cautiousness,
Hoping amidst the dire hopelessness.

Dec.17, 2024