Hey,
Crumpled piece of paper,
I couldn't write
I had the feeling
But the words didn't feel so right!
So, here in the middle of this night
I pick you up again.
To find the flows,
That I need to regain.
Midst of everything,
I got myself to you,
Plugging away from people who
Don't bother to have a clue!
No matter how many of them got your back,
For concluding ourselves,
Is always, a "You" that lacks!
No one gets anyone,
No one's willing to sit beside.
Then why wait for people
To turn up your world upside?
You got to fight your own battles
You got to fill your own voids
This world is mean...
The people anyhow annoyed.
YOU ARE READING
Dusk to Dawn
PoetryThoughts are never about what that wanders all through the days in our chaotic minds; its entirely about what we start to feel with the sun setting in the sky, those dusky clouds gathered around and the night setting in. Those darkest nights before...
