There is this humbled person
Sitting in the corner of a room
Holding up tears running from above
Inhaling was a hard thing to do
Leave alone exhaling is difficult to let go
Being alone is a new thing being welcomed
Though loneliness has been an old friend being despised
Each laughter is an act of desperation
Being forced to act tough for whatever reasons out there
Sacrifices never have been the issue
Both appreciations and praises are not needed
Only once that kneeling down seemed like the only option
Grieving over thousands of never ending prayers
Simply for a single sweatless sleep
Self pity was never introduced
Yet griefs and despairs prison with their sharp fangs
Claws and roars complicate peacefulness
The world spins so hard
That things cant be seen as it should have been seen
Escaping have been practiced
With no one knowing how and when and why it has been done countlessly
Being trapped inside and out
There seem nothing other than to be ready
Preparing one self to embrace whatever comes
Love and hatred could intersect
Building up its walls over reality
Turns out that being sceptic is only natural
Let loving is an act of desperation of being so tired
And hatred has become one's self.
And all in all
It reminds the part of kneeling down
Just because of a request of having a dreamless sleep.
Soundlessly soothing breathe.
