The morning leads to a vague day, when the dark
Clouds top the overhead, a day of confusion to mark
Another day of fugue decided by the sleepless night
And a sense of deja vu!
A long drawn sleepless night draws to an end, a close,
Where the morning sun no pleasure does bring to one,
Who has a day of reckoning to contend with,
Where a flight of sparrows no cheer does bring!
As the day speaks of yet another struggle,
It find itself bound in yet another wish to snuggle,
Deep within warm blankets, to smother a dawn which
Brings nothing but a day of struggle!
And so there exists a need for a moment of rest,
Where weary heads might go to rest,
A moment of rest, a moment of sleep, so to
Forget a time so pressed; if only, moment to sleep!
But then has the day of innocence passed so far,
As now has one grown so old so far,
As the mind sinks into a gyre of confusion, a cog in a world
So fast, when the form and fancy does the mind overwhelm!
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