The rain veils the canvas,
blurs the view for the yearning audience to look beyond.
Rain can be gentle and ruthless.
From afar the water drips soft,
pleasing to the eye, it allures with its shimer.
Step in closer—
And it strikes you like bullets fired in the battlefield,
the recoils splash your inward eye.
A quiet, yet disturbing force to be reckoned with—

The trees show the path ahead,
a dull green blur on both sides.
The road’s a soft grey,
easy on the eyes, Alluring.

Background painted with pitch-black.
Silence is loud.
Leaving me alone with the base note of my heart, enough to keep me tinged.
The leaves whisper,
I’ve gone numb.

I wonder—
is this road the right one?
Or will it disappear like the others?

And even if it does,
does it matter?—
Don’t they all end in the same hole?

Life’s like a cigarette—
If you never take the risk, you’ll never be lit,
But light up too fast, and you’ll burn out quick,
Leaving nothing but smoke and regret.

Life’s like a cigarette—
Tempting, reckless, a slow inhale,
But every drag steals another breath,
And no one beats the final exhale.

Life’s like a cigarette—
You think you’re in control, till the ember fades,
Every choice a spark, every habit a flame,
And some fires you can’t unmake.

Life’s like a cigarette—
You can savor it slow or waste it fast,
But remember—when the last puff’s gone,
All that’s left is the ash of your past.

Not today.

Cracks on my head
have appeared boldly—
scorching heat,
the culprit, smiles.

Wounds fester
and age with time.

Taunting sleep haunts along,
derailing any grip on reality.

Hopeless I am,
breathless and fallen.