Sometimes

Sometimes, life feels heavy.
Not tragic. Not broken.
Just quietly miserable — like a sky that won’t clear.

And sometimes, words don’t help.
They try to speak, but they fall short.

It’s a good and rainy morning —
and somehow, that feels right.
Soft. Still. Almost sacred.

Sometimes, I look up and wonder.
Is this it?
Is it enough?
Am I missing something?

Sometimes, I feel sure of what I know.
Other times, I get lost in my own thoughts.
Like the world isn’t quite built the way it should be.
Like there’s a piece missing. A beat skipped.

Sometimes, a simple “sorry” feels like a gift.
Sometimes, it feels like a lift —
a small mercy that says, "I see you."

Sometimes, my heart feels so full,
I swear it might burst.

Sometimes, A doesn’t come before B.
And sometimes, 1 + 1 doesn’t add up to 2.
And that’s okay.

Sometimes, I question things I thought I already answered.
Sometimes, I don’t even want answers.
Just a moment to sit in it.

And guess what?

That’s life.
It just be like that.
Sometimes.