The nights are cold
And the morning is old.
Hi and bye the cycle repeats with no gain
I greet the sun with bloated face again.
Time seems to be stuck in December
Will you be my summer
Keep me warm, be my sweater
Be my little fluttering thing with a feather.
Everything seems so out of place Everything seems so far from home If home is not a place, but people who are close to heart A family that was once my own. call me homeless call me a wanderer Their silent actions and angry glares What is wrong. Stop these weird stares. Shutting doors Don't shut me out I plead Shut out doors they make my heart bleed
Everyday same routine, my life feels like a tragedy.
Please Free me from this misery,
Chatterbox speaking silence,
Your silence is all I want to hear,
I wanna go back home, but the map is lost and the roads are blocked
Open doors and open arms a sight I don't remember.
Can I stay in your arms forever.
Far from you yet close to you,
Love is a mystery
Everybody chases something that gives them peace,
But why does that only make them more restless.
Some chase money, some chase health,
And I chase you, my love
But down and down the boat sinks deeper.
In and out it gets filled with sorrow
Minute by minute you go farther
And day by day the hole gets bigger
Sick of waiting the boat is drowned
The nights are cold
And the morning is old.
Hi and bye the cycle repeats with no gain
I greet the sun with bloated face again.
Time seems to be stuck in December
Will you be my summer
Keep me warm, be my sweater
Be my little fluttering thing with a feather.
YOU ARE READING
The Nights Are Cold
Poetryit's about a person living amoung familiar yet unfamiliar people and missing home or perhaps love...
