It's when the morning gray
bleeds into my eyes through blinds
that the night concedes
to day, officially
Under the bare cover
through dead trees, slice power lines,
growing, connecting
meats virtually
It's with the rising steam
from porcelain go all dreams
Coffee will run through you
fast as the day
When the light is on,
we're finally done
Words will not come
Words will not come

'There is still time' I
Tell myself again just to
Excuse my failure

Turn around,
And you'll see someone
More lost than you,
With less hope,
Less chances,
Less belief.

That's not a victory.
That's what we fight:

Not a nation,
Nor a religion,
Nor an ideology,
Not even terror.
We fight suffering.

And we fight with words
Designed to drill
Deep into your minds
To constantly remind you
Of what you'd rather ignore:
The person stood behind you,
Who needs you to turn around.