The love of the dark,

The longing of the emptiness,

The sense of calmness in the sleepless nights,

Where else can I find such peace than seeing the coming.


Head sunk in thoughts,

To the paper beneath my fist,

With the smoke from the cigarette,

That would be what I write about.


I did not write to reach people,

But to step away from them,

Continuously struggling away from attachments,

Even if its the right one.


Anyone could be a hero,

Its the day by day action is my kryptonite,

Repeating the same routine,

That shall be the death of me.



-HIY