One gloomy day

It’s the thing with this weather

Gloomy and grey

Just like the heart of human

That manifests a shade between dark and light

My anatomy is unwilling to move out of bed

But my brain! It is over-embellished weaving gloomy ideas 

Those grey hands that left me in the passage of time

The past that doomed the spark

Do you have regrets? Do you want to rewind?

Do you miss it? Do you wish?

Well, that’s the thing with human

A human walks with an open wound

Those people who left in in the middle

Those who hesitated to hold the hand from the start

Those who were vindictive

Those who disregarded the love

All of it is part of pieces that makes a heart

Henceforth I say, ‘’I always leave my heart anywhere I go’’

The funny thing with heart is that it always expects energy 

But the energy present at the moment is too heavy to process

The soul trapped in a physical form 

Waits for the light to enter the cave

Every human is a dot in the universe

There are just connections of dot but they don’t connect

What makes your heart beautiful? Don’t know

Is it the energy to make the heavy heart light?

Is it that it is always open to everyone’s energy till it overflows?

Is it because it is empty, ready enough to be filled by someone?

Can the heart turn into love?

Can love turn into poison?

Can poison turn out to be a cure?

Can cure turn out to be death?

Can love be dark?

Can dark have a galaxy?

Can light make you suffer?

Can suffering make you enlightened?

Our world would be nothing without trying to be better

It feels like the soul returned back to the body

Any place is beautiful when you stay still

People can’t fathom even though if they are nice

The more one sees, the more it gets unclear

You don’t get all the possibilities with zero risk

I want to believe that

Is my heart corny?

You know what’s yours?

Your story, your version, the story that binds you

‘’Make your heart happy’’, they say

Since when did humans start to understand the heart?

If that would be the case, there wouldn’t be poems

There wouldn’t be a tragedy, there wouldn’t be love

The drizzling of rain in the weather brings more reasons to introspection

Call it a reflection of the gloominess of things beyond the body 

How silly is it na, to be driven by something that doesn’t belong to you

To believe in the manipulative mirror shown to you by someone

That happened on one gloomy day.