He wakes up exhausted,
feels the same while in bed,
his world is distorted,
numbness laced with pure dread.
All moves feel so stagnant,
within his encaged thoughts,
dull memory fragments,
haunt false tales he once bought.
Disguising sorrowed tears,
wears a slight broken smile,
his attempts carry fears,
often seen as hostile.
Raindrops produce music,
that cascade on his head,
gifts of hopes that may stick,
to eventually spread.
Deeply stares at the sky,
till a rainbow appears,
aspirations run high,
as his dusty mind clears.
An empowering choice,
help him gain some control,
finding ways to rejoice,
swiftly brightens his soul.
– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy
Originally Published November 06, 2021