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Feb 2023
The rising sun
Brings no joy to my face
Life moves on
But I never started the race
Destined to fall
Fated to fail
I've seen enough now
What makes you think I'll be gold?
Born bold
But no megaphone gets free from the cold
Everything recycled
From an age of old
Not even angry
Just proves my rapport
New is just old
Stripped away for the poor
Of heart, of love, of life
Let me lay, I need sleep
Let me hope that one day
My fatigue will relieve
So that the next day
Maybe, I can stand, awake
Written by
Chandy  21/M/U.S
(21/M/U.S)   
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