Next morning.

It is days like these which make me wish, That I never wake up the next morning. The misery and the darkness, The shouting and crying, Madness and hopelessness. And the pain becomes unbearable when you are the reason for everyone's tears. The darkness rules all around. The world tells you to be strong and to keep the faith. But it feels like crawling with a burnt soul. The dirt and foul smell in the air you breathe. Lie on a damp, muddy bed trying to fall asleep. They say that life is precious. But the preciousness is lost trying to make the heart smile. I feel no joy, no pleasure. I want to disappear from here. To a place where the situations all the same, Misery, no less than now. But there would be a hand to give me an assurance. There would be arms around me, Giving me all the love and strength. Then maybe in that world, My pillow wouldn't be wet every night. I wouldn't be so weak from within. But it is too much I ask for from my life. And the truth is I will wake up the next morning. My thoughts still lost, another thought will come take me home. The tale of thoughts will be rewritten. But that longing for a caressing heart will stay every next morning.