They always say rotten goods are stored in cans
Silently preaching for decay
And oh, I guess that’s the best way to describe my head
You might have seen
But surely, you have not yet heard
How my mind flips the coin
And all the corns are popped in my head
Another day to be afraid
Another day to fight the monsters that I made
Another day to curve ripe tales read
Why am I still here?
Is my mind half dead or just in shock?
Have I fully surrendered to the pain
So, it’s my energy I reserve
Yet for another day?
Trust me, they are not a myth
In my head, they truly do live
And my faith, in ways it shifts
My path curved from the north pole in a swift
“I am tired.”
Words in every script, I repeat.
I close my eyes in defeat.
Maybe I should lie my head to sleep
Another day
Tomorrow, my sorrow not in my wit.
This was written by our contributing writer, Luna Martha.
Image Source: Unsplash, Faheem Ahmed
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