In the angry torrent of wailing winds,
I am a silent lost little water drop;
Searching for an acceptable abode,
I fell into a barren land of minds.
Estranged within the boundaries of colors,
I am a colorless lost little water drop;
Scouring for a humble shelter,
I am trapped into a maze of closed doors.
On a face distorted with a grimace,
I am a stray lost little water drop;
Sorrow being my beloved creator,
I leave dust and emptiness as my trace.
Drowning in a sea of selfishness,
I am a lonely lost little water drop;
Looking for a parched throat to quench,
I am unused and purposeless.

YOU ARE READING
Lost
PoesíaAt times we find ourselves entangled in what life throws our way. I wrote this poem when I happened to come across a patch in my life where I felt lost and tangled in its threads, unable to find a way out.