Screaming in silent hues
Into the sky, diffuse
Like my mind that I abused
My trepidation from it oozed.

I try to keep, but in vain
My broken thoughts inside my brain
Out of control, they proved bane
Never content within their terrain

And when all is ordained and said
I look down at my palms with dread
Glaring in disgrace and sins of red
The person in the mirror is dead

The Heavens are closer
to Earth tonight
to sing for you
and hold you in their silk arms.
But you are frowning at the sidewalk,
looking for pieces
of your broken heart.
Just look up, darling.

The clouds grumble
as if on cue
with my rage.
My palms streak the lightning
with utmost familiarity.
A pet loyal as ever;
always awaiting
the slightest nod
to curse all who ever belittled me.

The sprinkled moondust
hovering above the wisps of clouds,
veil the puzzle pieces
as they linger
in the pools of wisdom
left behind by the sages,
where the thinkers have bathed
and left their sorrows,
to come out immaculate;
leaving a legacy
for the new intellectuals to put together.