The sound of raindrops on my panes,
Haunting wail of puppies in the lane;
Existential crisis of mindfulness;
No moon to muse on, no stars shining
Only the city is visible in the lightning.
Wide awake, not a wink of sleep,
On these days, the thoughts run deep;
I gather them together in the warm blanket
Carefully hide them away in my emotional casket.
The mask of the strong has fallen for the weak,
The rain wipes it off like a magic trick.
Slowly, I blend in the waters of heaven,
As it flows upon my cheeks,
And I know for sure that I must endure
In the path that I seek.
© Suranya
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