How would it be,
if tempered moods,
followed you in your own,
weathering,
say if you're deeply misunderstood,
with foot in front of the other foot,
head is down,
no real reason to feel the stars,
though they're there,
still no reason to look up,
Could it be,
that your mind, withdrew the curtains from opening,
blocked out the white sun, replacing 'your' sky
with mood lighting,
or black and salted,
to kindly fit the knots
located in your stomach,
or the influx of intrusive
thoughts, scaling larger,
driving the nail in the coffin, deeper.
How could it turn out,
if...