Bleak clouds amidst dull grey sky,
Swelling melancholy reflecting a mind,
A dim ray of sunlight popping in,
Often seeming like ray of hope,
In reality it is an incoherent delusion.
Appending glum is the attire of the mass,
Few draped in ebony,
Others dazzling and vivid,
Eager are they, to be noticed and appreciated,
Does it make a difference to a somber eye?
Subtle gestures of pursuit and hope,
A speculative affair they crave to indulge in,
Displaying the finest obedience seeking attention,
A futile unrecognized decent obsession,
A hope that they know will fade in the end.
An evolution of a desperate generation,
Yearning for a soul to listen and care,
The pursuit of happiness is an unbounded cycle.
An emotional trance to which each of us belong,
I grin to myself at the irony of life.
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