Life is beautiful every single moment. It is us who make it look ugly with our cloudy thoughts of grief, guilt, and self-deprecation. The light exists always; it is just concealed by the darkness of our moribundity. Let’s reclaim this beauty through a poem.
The Lines
How trapped am I?
I occasionally poked myself,
Whenever I turned into,
A grumpy gloomy cloud,
Staining the sunny radiance,
Of the yore.
Then,
I washed those stains,
By bursting aloud,
Pouring out all that trapped me.
But,
It never happened,
with ease,
And I,
With weary, frantic eyes,
Looked for another cloud,
Which could cause another thunder,
Where we share our saddened vibrations.
But,
This turned into an ordeal,
A vicious cycle,
That increased the pain,
Caused by the heaviness of other clouds.
That’s what addiction is,
It smothers you for a while,
Gives a moment of ecstasy,
And, then,
Tortures you in every breath.
So,
I decided,
To release the burden,
All by myself,
With a sense of freedom,
Breaking all inhibitions,
All notions of fear and self-doubt,
And let the sun shine again,
In its full glory,
Outgrowing the years of yore,
To the pinnacle of senility.
That’s how life is,
Beautiful when stained,
And,
Even more beautiful,
When cleansed.
LIFE: PAIN: BEAUTY
Tulip Brook 