May the morning make you forget it all.But sadly, it doesn’t.
The same stagnant looks, the same foul speech, its the same.
I thought seeing the morning sun, which tells you, you lived another day would make you happy mother.
It doesn’t.
If you’re waiting for the sun inside me to rise.
Let me tell you, it’s a long wait.
Glory and all things lustrous are for the ones born privileged.
But I’m poor by virtue, like many others, like you.
Young, wild and free they say.
When the blood’s still running warm and fast, young.
When the roads look all dark and you see a ray of light stealing in, you run chasing it, wild.
When you got nothing to lose, free.
I write about it, give it a meaning and live by it.
Trying to fix me, not a solution, not a way.
Because I’m accepting no fixtures for my self.
I’m good.
To you, goodbye.