Morbid Obsessions

Missing a rain, that always kept my mind wet.
Sky is all blue and the mind is getting dried up as if baked in a kiln.


Missing a music, that always let my heart beat in rhythm.
Strings are brocken and no one bothers to mend it.


Missing a fragrance, that always lit up my senses.
The flower had been withered and i forgot to nurture the plant for long


And now i miss my soul, that always made me to think the life is a gift.
Its still being unfolded even after the glistening wrappers were ripped apart in haste.


Waiting for a rain, to regain the rhythm and melody ...to savour the nectar and fragrance...and to wash away the morbid obsessions in life