THE GREY SKY.

There he stood with all his pride,

Thinking about the day he first cried.

But the scars made him vulnerable.

Pain from the messenger of misery became intolerable

He decided on give up his life unbearable.

The louder he moaned,

The more it used to hurt.
He wore the drape of depression,

After nothing left, some motivation.

He wrote some last words for his loved one,

Laughing over about how life finally won!

Standing at the end of the year,

Winds silently howling his ear.

Trying to remember all the good memories;

But the cries of his heart didn’t let the good memories win.
Those brutalising thoughts kept on stabbing him through his chest,

Every stab made him Clare why he was right to take this step.

The voices in his head,

The mournings from his bed.

Made him think that the world wouldn’t be affected just by him.
And for his last cry.

He sobbed so hard that his eyeballs popped out.

His proud jaws ruptured.

He sobbed so hard that his ribs fractured,

Puncturing his lungs
He saw himself from above,

Pale, depressed and all dead.

It was a state of dillemma.

There was music and too much whites.
In an hour he came back to his conscience.

And later he realised that he had been to heaven.

And he thrived to life this time.

Making the life to cry.

And he lived happily ever after.

– Gaurang Nanda

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