And suddenly a gloom of despair surrounds
Of the meaninglessness that abounds.
By dusk I reconcile to destiny,
Till dawn breaks in mutiny.
What should I think?
Tell myself what?
Hey! We just reached the brink,
Says the SWOT.
Thoughts in turmoil,
Leaving much to recoil.
Such is the state of mind in suppression
Alas! the poor souls who drank down potions for their depression,
Were only 'normal',
Just the surrounds were some how, Unlike now!
Hemamalini
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