Sitting alone in my ill lit room
I was pondering over my crazy thoughts
Everything around felt null and void
Except the distant growling of a hungry street dog.
I do have many masks
Which are kept discretely in the dark cellars of mind.
They surface involuntarily in me
To suit various times and seasons.
Sitting in my little crammed cabin of pine
I was lost in dreary thoughts of mine
Oh my soul I don't get you!
Where you go and when you rest?
Life gifts us 'pain', a natural phenomenon
Which demands no language to understand
It comes as a bolt from the blue
And creeps in at the most improper time.