Echoes have grown quieter
Raindrops on the tin roof have grown softer
And daybreak feels like just the sequel to night

Patience has grown thinner
Vultures have grown bolder, and hungrier
And I find myself starting to sprout wings

I used to speak with a fraction of compassion
I used to smile with a tinge of yellow
I used to sleep with the promise of sweeter dreams

But now, the reality is,
Nothing makes me happy anymore,
Not even sadness.

And mired in that realization,
I am losing all sense of color
And by tomorrow, I may awake as pallid as the moon