Gloomy Sunday

and all is pale
with the rushing shower & swirling steam
exhaling the heat of sorrows
vapours befoul the mirror
cunningly misting the windows
hence clouding the bleak moon

it still tries to gleam
but no, it stays helpless
weighted down so dreadfully
by this amalgam of affliction
leaving a huge smudge
in that ruby red heart

not ever to let go now
in search for bliss
as sorrow will sprout woe
when the day just ain't that fine