Broken pieces scattered all over..
As I start collecting some pierce through.
A red drop trickles..
As my skin chuckles.
But tears take precedence.
Not even once those pieces lie,
Everywhere they sit and cry.
Melancholy should be self explanatory.
I pick them up as they prick..
To indefinite souls they stick.
Weak as they have fallen,
Spoilt yet defensive.
Wet but not mourning,
Looking at each other..
They start holding up one another.
Stagger yet sober,
But couldn’t walk any further.
Sit through the night..