Original Grief

Obliged to this night ride

Pouring out my agony

Aren't we the stardusts?

Who gave us emotions?

Why are these tiny atoms

Alive and feeling the whole lot

They could never afford?

Aren't we the stardusts?

All that wrap around me,

Mock at my mediocre matters.

The concealed face emoji tells

Almost the default state for long.

The nature, culture and future

Conspire against my wills.

The wind whistles to my wheezing,

The sun shuts down my eyes,

The rain might have been nice

But doesn't bother to approach

Unless I wear my white shoes.

Yet I pamper my brief case.

It isn't unprecedented,

Nor unanticipated.

But genuinely original grief

In my own manifestations.

Never have I ever thought

I would ever be alone in this ride.