Mood is all that matters

Even though I promised at the end of the poem that I won't explain. I couldn't resists saying a few words about it.
Unless someone is a saint, they'd always prefer judging a situation, person or anything for that sake, PURELY on the basis of their mood at that point of time, and mostly, they regret overdoing it, or under-doing it :)

And I feel utterly alone
No one's going to glue me when I'm broke.

Cause I am the one who is alleged to do that.

Set off,
chat with people.


That makes me splinter into pieces.

I am up over and see,
No one is truly bothered about me.

It’s a tad about them.

And now,
I am soaring.

Good mood has taken over me.

And I see,
Everyone is good to me,
and has ever been.


Do I need to conclude?
Or was this poem self explanatory?

The End

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