I am the gloomy picture sitting on a shelf
With hue tainted by rain
With dead kin smiling unaware of their inevitable imminent bereavement
Dust has rendered the photo a dreary memory, ancient and forgotten

I am the song that reaches your heart but triggers no happiness
It reminds you of that reminiscence which you wish to not recall
As the piano sings as a tear crawls down you cheek
The words might as well be your own

I am the clouds that appear to have no texture
Just grey sheets covering the sun and bliss along with it
A slight rain engenders a feeling of pure grief
You are a prisoner of your emotions

I close my eyes in an attempt to rid of the feeling
But it follows me through blindness
It follows me in my dreams
It is as inexorable as death itself