“I seem to have only few moods these days, three to be exact and honestly, they are simply variations of each other” Gun Roswell
Three moods to be exact
There are times when one’s mood could be described as happy, even chipper with a laugh way too loud, maybe?
And then there are those times, more often so these days, when the one single mood, even if it was assumed they were three different ones, but totally so, they are the same, and this is where the poem start the writer to blame.
The blue, the grey and then morphing into the very dark, the idea of becoming totally snide with a loud bark, even if the whole idea perhaps none too smart.
Alas, it was a time of regress, if this special state needed to be confessed, moving away from the fun and sun, even people who seemed to be always and everywhere around.