GLOOM

There sure is a way out-

Or may be not

For no one has ever known

the way out from here.

We keep searching here-

Here and over there

No, may be not-

May be it's just not here!

Dead roses, dead leaves

Sans beauty, piled up in heat

Broken beads, breathing its last

Shrunk like the ghosts of Christmas past!

Doors! Doors! There I see!

As wide as a devil's glee!

I sprint with hope, my feet on air

I run, run, as the young brown mare!

May be the sand beneath my feet

Sent out an alarm, before my meet

For no more was there, a door that stood

But walls of stone, and not even wood!

I placed my hand, on those walls

Hoping to feel the reason for my fall

There was only, but the cold of the rock

Caging the lands wide, with gloom for the lock!