Sunday, 9 October 2016


Gloomy skies and wintry nights
Hints of hollowness in empty eyes

Getting high, on doses of Endorphins
Byproduct of sobs without crises

Living is easy when expectations are low
Warmth and comforts are too hard to let go

Wonder what they call this state of being?
A refusal to crack the shells of feeling.

Surely enough I looked up the dictionary
There I found the name, the bitter sweet Melancholy!

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