As the departing clouds complain of the silver linings that never were

As the winds losing strength, howl, in their need for attention, so dire

A drop of sunlight melts into the sea, with many more walking the shore

“Is it wrong, that it doesn’t look dark anymore? “

 

As the fingers storm relentlessly on the keyboard

As the pen’s might searches for the exact sharpness of the sword

A  mystic light pours in from the horizon with the promise of so much in store

“Is it wrong that it doesn’t appear hopeless anymore?”

 

As the endless nights spent in anticipating the disaster sink in

As the much apprehended mayhem finally steps in

A sweet caressing peace surprisingly cleanses the core

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this… Is it wrong that it doesn’t hurt anymore?”

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