It rained.

Imprisoned,

One in a such a turmoil of life,

And the utterance of affection.

Bewildered and petrified,

Should never a peacock be

To flair and unfurl its feathers out wide.

Then why should one? Mhm... 

Bewildered and petrified

For one could be cold-shouldered

Outright. 

Condensed with sorrow,

With everything else vaporized. 

This life long prison,

Dreaded with Darkness,

Cold and Pain. 

Mundanely mannered. 

Coercing a semblance on me. 

Sometimes I question,

Everything and the skies. 

For what reason did they cry
So much bitterness and distress
On me.