Dark smoke encircles the bright skies
Leaves less room for refreshed sighs
Such smoke, an embodiment of negativity
How fast it seeps to destroy all hard-earned positivity
Looking up into the bright morning skies
Having the eye meet the dewdrops
The fog, an embodiment of haze
A complete cover over the mind’s mental chaste
We certainly are on the run.
Mentally, of course from all the noise
We certainly want some space
Mentally of course from all the daze
The most distressing call
Is one for mental peace
As the mind wanders through lands
And I know not why.
-Mariam