Silly songs that echo my despondency,
Oh what trivial whimsies mocking my heavy heart.
Decked up in all my finery,
Yet underneath: drowning, adrift in shadows.
Curse the tears, they threaten
My perfectly bold facade to lessen.
Meaningless pretence fuels my ever-smouldering fury,
At why life isn’t the way it is in stories.
"Am I truly living, or am I merely existing?"
Echoes haunt me as I lay my head to rest.
Weekend sorrows weigh upon my weary soul, turn me forlorn
The seed of Madness already sown.
Oh wait! Let me think it through,
“Oh! Overthinking is my only beau.”
-Varunika
Comments
Post a Comment