Some nights
the pillow is too fluffy.
Some nights
the pillow is too hard.
And I have no option
but to stay awake
and look at the
orange light of streetlamp
outside my window.
It is not the pillow,
nor the light
that keeps me awake.
It is just the side effect
of trying too hard
to be something.


Some nights
I am too much.
Some nights
I am not enough.
And I have no option
but to stay awake
and look at the
light of fate
out of my control.