Anatomy of a Mood-Swing

You sit in there, pleasantly,

like a blooming flower.

Everything, at least, seems to be perfect;

But nothing is, indeed, deep inside.

As you sense the faked up reality,

in the back of your mind,

A faint whisper of turbulence sets in.

And that’s how everything starts,

all of a sudden, out of the blue,

Dragging your spirits into the blues. 

An unfamiliar sense of 

unwell-being strikes you.

A wave of wily gloom

embraces you unwillingly. 

An inexplicable longing for solitude 

slithers in silently.

An inexpressible rage to scream

builds up violently.

A cloudburst of apathy 

drenches you under its sympathy. 

A craving for conversation surges 

high inside your vacuous soul. 

The will to live vanishes,

as its foe flourishes,

 leaving behind a void 

and vapors of confusion.

All these relentless tides of emotions 

Knocks on your doors of peace 

and leaves you in pieces

That scary transition 

In just a matter of seconds

questions your sanity

and piles up to your vanity.

Yet you try to smoke out the cause

But you are blind as a bat

Neither you can see,

Nor you can feel. 

That’s how you fall, 

and yet claim to be fine.