In the sky of the mind, drizzled, soaked and wrought -
Consciousness drifts by empty of a thought.

Eyeblinks push-and-pull calls in the rain,
Bottom lip quivers as if of a slain.

Anger in the cracks slowly boils up,
Madness gets served gently in a cup.

Tiny bolts tinge a plaid spotted sky,
Gods in false hope hide without a try.

Faint breeze turns to a whopping unrest,
Calm no more; everything abreast.

Ire runs about in colours of spite,
A mock shade defies the tropic of light.

And all failed promises burst with rage,
When the young one dissolves in old age.