A Beautiful Life

How trapped am I?

I occasionally poke myself,

Whenever the grumpy gloomy clouds,

Stained the sunny radiance,

Of the yore.

And,

I look for another cloud,

As gloomy as I am,

To cause a thunder,

And pour out the unwanted,

But, all in vain.

Then the search goes on,

Like a vicious cycle,

To find a companion in pain,

One,

That shares the same saddened vibrations,

Only to be left all alone,

In this endless ordeal.

That's what an addiction is,

It smothers you initially,

Towards a moment of ecstatic bliss,

Finally,

Stinging you in every breath.

But,

After all this,

Realization is not far,

A ray of hope nudges,

The grieving cloud,

And pierces it through,

Releasing the burden,

And removing the stain,

And bringing back the sunshine,

Of yore in the pinnacle of senility.

That's how life is,

Beautiful,

When stained,

And even more beautiful,

When cleansed.