Mornings,they bring a peculiar smell,
of Yesterday,rotting in my mind,
Mornings like any other day,
leftover crumbs from night behind.
Sweet dreams wished,never come..
no familiar hand tucks me in,
Night is finality,Night is mortality,
my silent protest against the din.
I stay awake,till eyes are half past heavy,
eyelids meet..they dutifully levy,
fatigue and lullabies
upon my scarlet eyes.
Night wraps its hands around my neck,
and squeezes life and consciousness
out of me,for the day has ended..
A New Tomorrow?Lies..
Will the day end again...
I am ready to pretend again.
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