"Good morning," says the gloomy day,
As colored thoughts come into play.
To loiter in the tricky mind,
Wet caves of light one surely finds.

One expends the nights only to
Restore good feelings which seem true.
In search of light, one tries to bore
Himself to drill through inner core.

The heart longs for tranquility
The head befriends disparity,
The eyes grow big like that of owl's
The words expelled so very foul.

While truth presents with benefit,
The wick of doubt is quickly lit.
However strong one fixed the bind,
The power lies with colored mind.