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Monsoon, Is It?
Monsoon, Is It?
1 min
126
The cloud of thoughts wasn't replete,
Yet the pour of the wet trickled down.
Being in a daze has been her normal,
And thus, the pour welcome.
One's kindred never questions,
Yet again, they stood by their very nature.
The SELF although craves,
Can't ever surrender to its musings.
The words whirl about:
Some emotions are bliss and some...
Well, they exist.
Was it seeping melancholy,
Or a moment of weakness,
Or the very state of being vulnerable?
The pour showcased feels.
She knew, feeling means living!
She didn't question what she felt,
Her fascination revolved around "the why?"
Until it struck her,
Her subconscious isn't hers to control.
